


I Can't Tell You Yet

by koschei_the_deathless



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Abuse, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Why Did I Write This?, im really salty about great comet closing, nobody is straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koschei_the_deathless/pseuds/koschei_the_deathless
Summary: Fedya Dolokhov is struggling with highschool, his father, and his long-time crush on Anatole Kuragin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, so i hope it's okay. Any thoughts and comments would be deeply appreciated.

I’ve always liked Anatole. Ever since the day I first saw him, in second grade. I remember it well: my initial reaction to seeing Anatole.  
It had been the first day of school, and the teacher had made us do introductions, and when Anatole had stood up, I practically died. Even at 7 years old, Anatole had been hot. His white-blonde hair, large, gray eyes framed by dark lashes, full, pink lips, and his slim figure.  
Now we are both sophomores in high school, and I still haven't worked up the courage to actually talk to Anatole. He doesn't talk to me either, except for the occasional ‘Can I borrow your pencil?’ or ‘Have you seen my sister?’. I don’t even think Anatole has noticed me, despite all my desperate attempts for attention, like getting into fights on a daily basis. Those fights weren’t only to get attention though. I only fight people who insult me or my friends.  
I only really have two friends: Marya Bolkonsky, or ‘Mary’ as everyone called her, and Vasily Denisov, or ‘Vaska’ as everyone calls him. I have a nickname too: ‘Fedya’. My first name is Fyodor, but I hate it because it sounds like that old, boring, Russian author, Fyodor Dostoyevsky. A lot of people still just call me Dolokhov though. My last name.  
I doubt Anatole knows my name though. Speaking of Anatole, he has continuously grown more good-looking, ever since second grade, which means that by this point, he is very good-looking. Very hot. Too hot to notice a barbarian like me. The fights I get into have become my entire reputation now, so much that people, mostly the freshmen who don’t know me, call me ‘Dolokhov the assassin’, even though I’ve never actually killed anyone. It almost makes me glad that Anatole doesn’t know me.  
I’m also failing pretty much every class, but it’s not like anybody cares. Most of my teachers don’t care, my mom is dead, and my dad is an alcoholic who honestly doesn’t give a shit about me, much less, my grades. I doubt he even knows I’m failing. My teachers tell me, ‘You’re just distracted’, but I don’t think it matters much. I’m failing, it doesn’t matter why. There are only three classes that I have with grades above a D+. Math, PE, and Russian, and I doubt anybody fails PE, even Mary, the least athletic person I’ve ever met.  
I’m sitting in chemistry class right now, but I’m not paying attention. I have my phone turned on under my desk, and I’m texting Denisov. The only reason I even have a phone is because Denisov and Mary got together and bought me one for my 13th birthday. Our conversation goes like this:  
Vaska: have you ever considered that maybe the reason why you’re failing chemistry is because you’re always either texting me or staring at ykw?  
Fedya: shut up  
Fedya: if they actually want me to pay attention to the lesson they shouldnt make it so boring  
Vaska: fair point  
Vaska: how’s kuragin?  
Fedya: u mean anatole?  
Vaska: i get that you want him to notice you, but then maybe you should work on getting a better reputation. Or do you want him to know you as dolokhov the assassin?  
Fedya: i dont even know y ppl call me that ive never killed anybody  
Fedya: youre just salty bc natasha dumped u 4 andrey  
Vaska: that has nothing to do with anything  
Vaska: but yeah i'm still kinda salty about it  
Fedya: u really need 2 get over her  
Vaska: i know i know but i would have been fine if it wasn’t ANDREY that guy hates both of us because he thinks we corrupted mary idk why  
Fedya: …  
Fedya: who else would have corrupted mary?  
Vaska: who said mary’s been corrupted at all?  
Fedya: andrey says  
Fedya: gtg teacher coming  
Vaska: see you at lunch

I turn off my phone a second too late and I see my chemistry teacher, Marya Dmitryevna Akrosimova, or ‘Marya Dmitryevna’, as we all call her, standing over me, giving me a look that is downright terrifying.  
“Mr. Dolokhov,” she says, “Who was so important that you needed to be texting them in the middle of my class.”  
“My mom,” I say flatly, not wanting to get Denisov in trouble.  
Marya Dmitryevna purses her lips. “Mr Dolokhov, I don’t want to bring up your personal family issues in a public setting such as this, but we both know that your mother is in no state to be texting you-”  
The whole class laughs.  
“I know,” I mutter. “It was a joke.”  
“-although I do appreciate you not wanting to get your friend in trouble. Mr. Denisov should be thankful.”  
“If you knew then why did you even ask?”  
“To see what you’d say.” She winks at me.  
I shove my phone back in my pocket and scowl. “I hate chemistry,” I say under my breath.  
“You hate every subject,” Nikolay Rostov whispers from next to me. He’s Natasha’s brother. The same Natasha who dumped Denisov.  
“PE is okay,” I tell him.  
“Yeah, because you’re actually good at it,” Nikolay scoffs, then continues taking way-too-detailed notes on the lesson.  
“Hey,” I say to him. “Can I look at your notes after class?”  
His expression is unreadable, and he doesn’t talk for a few seconds. “Sure,” he says at last. Then he says, quieter, obviously oblivious to the fact that I can still hear him, “Anything for you.”  
I say nothing, but my brow furrows in confusion. ‘Anything for you’? Does he like me or something? Like like me? I bite my lip. This is awkward.  
At the end of class, Nikolay pushes his notebook onto my desk and stands up. “Just give it back to me tomorrow,” he tells me. “I don’t know if you’ll find them useful, so if you don’t want them you don’t have to read them but-”  
“Thanks,” I say, cutting him off.  
He blinks at me, them blushes. “Yeah. Any time.” He turns and strolls toward out the door, and I follow close behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

I meet Mary and Denisov at our usual table in the back of the cafeteria at lunch. I'm honestly surprised that Marya Dmitryevna didn't make me stay after class.   
“How was chemistry?” Mary asks me politely.   
“Bad,” I say. “Marya Dmitryevna caught me texting Vaska in class.”  
Denisov frowns at me. “Shouldn't you be in detention then? Fuck, shouldn't I be in detention?”  
“She didn't give me detention,” I say. “Either of us.”  
Denisov looks relieved. Then his eyes flick to the notebook in my hand. Nikolay’s notebook. “What's that?” he asks.   
“Oh,” I say. “It's, uh, Nikolay’s. He let me borrow it because I can't fucking pay attention in that class because it's boring, and I don't get it, and Anatole. But yeah, he said I could use them.”  
“Of course he did,” Denisov says. “Everyone knows he has a thing for you.”  
“I didn't!” I protest. “Not until today.”  
Denisov sighs. “You're so oblivious. But I kind of feel bad for him because we all know that you'll never get over Kuragin.”  
“Vaska!”  
Denisov shrugs. “You know it's true. Just sit down, and don’t throw your lunch tray at anyone, like yesterday. I really don’t want to have to deal with that.”  
“But he was being a dick,” I protest. “He deserved it.”  
Mary tries to cheer up the mood. “So, do you guys want to see a movie tonight or something? Dolokhov can get usdiscount tickets because he works there.”  
“No,” Denisov and I say at the same time.  
Mary sighs. “Why not?”  
“Because you’ll end up taking Andrey and Natasha again,” I complain. “Remember last time? That was terrible. Vaska had to leave because he couldn't stand watching Natasha with Andrey-”  
“I had to leave because I was sick, Fedya. Don’t change the story.”  
“Oh, you were sick,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Sure.”  
“I was!” he insists.  
Suddenly, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and see a girl. I don’t know her, so she’s not in my year She looks like a senior. She wears lots of makeup and her dark curls are piled elegantly on the top of her head. “What do you want?” I ask.  
“Are you Fedya Dolokhov?”  
“Yeah,” I say, my voice low, warning her to stay away.  
“I should introduce myself,” she says. “I’m Helene Kuragina.”  
My eyes widen. Fuck. She’s Anatole’s sister. What does she want with me? Has she figured out that I have a crush on Anatole? Is she one of those super overprotective siblings? Is she going to kill me? I didn’t plan on this. I should have written a will or something. But what would it have even said? “Cool,” I say at last, when I realize there has been an awkward silence while I was having my mental breakdown.  
“Can I talk to you?” Helene asks.  
“I-”  
“In private?”  
“Sure,” I say, standing up tentatively.  
She smiles. “I’m not mad at you for anything,” she says.  
I bite my lip as I follow her out of the cafeteria and into the empty hallway.  
“Let me be frank,” she says. “I know you like Anatole.”  
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ll get over it, I promise. I’ll-”  
“Oh, no. You’re getting the wrong idea. I’m fine with that. I was going to offer to be friends, unless you have some other plan to get close to him, because I can tell you that staring at him from afar is not working very well.”  
“So you haven’t… told him?”  
“Oh, no. Of course not. I would never do that! So, anyway, Dolokhov- is that what I should call you?”  
I nod. “Yeah, sure.”  
“So, I was saying, what do you like about my brother?”  
“I don’t really know,” I say. “I just- Have you ever just like, felt attracted to someone and you don’t really know why because you’ve never talked to them, but it goes deeper than just their looks because it’s just like you can’t imagine being with anybody but that person? Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m ranting to you.”  
She shakes her head. “It’s fine, but I’m afraid I can’t relate. I’ve never really fallen in love before.  
“But… you’re dating Pierre,” I say.  
She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, he doesn’t love me either. Everyone know he likes Andrey. Except for Andrey. And you… I guess. Anyway, I don’t even know why we’re together. I’ve been looking for an excuse to break up with him, but to no avail, obviously, seeing as we’re still together.”  
“Helene,” says a deep voice from behind me. I turn around.  
“Oh, Pierre darling. We were just talking about you. Pierre, this is Dolokhov.” She turns to me. “Dolokhov, this is Pierre.”  
Pierre does not seem as if he likes me very much. “Dolokhov,” he repeats. “Fedya Dolokhov? Are you the one they call ‘Dolokhov the assassin?”  
I sigh. “That’d be me. Although I can promise you that I’ve never killed anybody.”  
“Do you make a habit of flirting with other people’s girlfriends?” He asks.  
I take a few steps away from Helene. “Oh, no, it’s not what you think-”  
“Fight me.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“If you want Helene, you have to fight me for her.”  
I consider. “I don’t particularly want her, but I’d never back down from a challenge. Here? After school? Will you come old man?”  
“Old man?” A pause. “After school.”

Pierre’s challenge is all I can think about for the rest of school. I’m not scared, no way. Everyone knows Pierre is a wimp. The only thing that even mildly intimidates me is his size. Everything about him is so… big. I might be scared if I were anyone else, but I’m Fedya Dolokhov.  
When the final bell rings, I make my way down to the cafeteria. Pierre is already there, with Helene and her brother Hippolyte, who does not look pleased to be here, and… Anatole? What is he doing here? Well, he is Helene’s brother, so is Hippolyte, it’s only natural. But he looks really good. It’s distracting. I continue walking until I am only a foot away from Pierre, making him uncomfortable with my commanding presence, before I hear a shout from behind me. “Fedya! What are you doing?”  
I turn around. “Vaska,” I say upon seeing Denisov. “I could say the same to you.”  
Denisov frowns, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t give me that. What the fuck are you doing? You don’t even like Helene!”  
“That’s not important!” I say. “Pierre challenged me! I couldn’t say no!”  
“You didn’t even try to say that there was a misunderstanding?”  
“I did but-”  
“Oh forget it. I’ll wait for you.” He goes to stand near Helene.  
My back is still to Pierre as he asks, “Are you done?”  
I hear Anatole sigh. “This is horribly stupid,” he says.  
I frown, and all of a sudden, Pierre launches himself at me. My back is still facing him, so I don’t even see him until he is on top of me, pinning me to the ground. I punch him in the face, but he holds his ground, bringing his fingers to grasp around my neck, slowly tightening, choking me. “You scoundrel,” he says to me.   
I try to respond, but I can’t speak. I can’t breathe. I can hear Denisov yelling words that I can’t make out. Black spots start to appear in my vision as I hear a voice that makes me flush.  
“Pierre, unhand him. I told you this was stupid.”  
“Anatole,” Pierre says simply, and his grip around my neck loosens and I gasp for air.  
I take a few breaths before I turn to Pierre and manage to choke out, “You’re the scoundrel.” My hand rests at my throat where Pierres’ had been. It’s still sinking in that if Anatole hadn’t stopped him, Pierre would have killed me.  
Anatole crouches down beside me, a hand on my chest. I flush from embarrassment. “Are you alright?” he asks. His voice is soothing. “Is there anything I can do?”  
I push his hand away and stand up. “Don’t touch me,” I say. “I don’t need your help.” I start to walk away, taking Denisov by the arm. “Vaska, let’s go.”  
“Fedya-” he stars, but then stops, waiting until the others are out of earshot before continuing, “Fedya, that was Anatole, fucking Anatole, you just told ‘don’t touch me’.”  
“I know,” I say. “I’m not stupid, Vaska. I could recognize him anywhere.”  
“Fedya, you don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve liked Anatole forever, and I wouldn’t doubt that you always will like him. If you have any chance with him, you just ruined it back there.”  
“I know,” I say again, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “Vaska, I was fighting with Pierre about Helene. Everything was ruined before I even said one fucking word to Anatole.”  
“Fedya-”  
“Just leave it, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore.”  
Vaska says nothing but I feel him looking at me like he’s dying to say something. “There’s always Nikolay,” he says softly at last.  
I glare at him. “But I don’t like Nikolay,” I tell him as we reach my house. “See you tomorrow, Vaska.”  
“See you tomorrow,” he echos. “Don’t get too down about it. Helene will know what to do, I’m sure. You should get her phone number.”


	3. Chapter 3

I go through the front door of my house and shut it behind me. It’s already unlocked. I must have left it like that when I left for school this morning. I’m lucky my house is walking distance with my dad the way he is. I try to sneak in as quietly as possible, but my dad hears me.

“Fedya, is that you?”

I hold my breath.

“Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Yes, Father,” I say, loud enough so that he can hear me. “Sorry.”

I watch him step into the entryway with me. He’s holding a bottle of Vodka. “Where have you been?” his voice slurs.

“At school,” I say.

He scowls. “That’s dumb.” He takes another swig of vodka before he adjusts his grip on the vodka bottle, and swings it right at my head. I manage to move out of the way so that it hits my arm instead of smashing over my head, but it really hurts. I can feel blood seeping through my shirt. “Fuck school,” he says. “And, fuck you, Fedya, for going there all day and leaving me alone with myself. Get out.”

“Excuse me?” I ask.

He swings a drunken fist unexpectedly towards me, hitting my cheek. “Stupid child. I said get out of my house. You can live at  _ school _ . Or with your  _ school _ friends.”

I sigh. This isn’t uncommon. Most of the time this happens, I go stay with Denisov for a week or two, but I really don’t feel like seeing him right now. I wouldn’t dare to go to Mary’s, even though she offers, because, one: her father is almost as bad as mine, and two: Andrey, so I just sit outside on my porch, lamenting that my first words to Anatole were, ‘Don’t touch me’. He probably hates me now, and he probably also thinks that I hate him.

I hug my knees to my chest, clutching my bleeding arm, which I have lost the ability to move. I think I’ll probably stay home tomorrow. In addition to being hurt, I don’t think I could bring myself to look at Anatole after earlier.

 

I wake up the next morning, and it takes me a moment to comprehend where I am and what I’m doing. The pain in my arm comes back and my hand flies instinctively to it. Stupid fucking Pierre. This is all his fault. 

I look at my cell phone to check the time. 1:34 PM. It’s that late already? Then I notice a missed call from Denisov. I decide to text him, even though I know he’s in class.

Fedya:  _ hey _

Fedya:  _ u tried 2 call me? _

Denisov responds a few minutes later.

Vaska:  _ yeah _

Vaska:  _ why the fuck wouldnt i? Youre not @ school _

Vaska:  _ is it your dad? _

Fedya:  _ yeah, mind if i come over after school? _

Vaska:  _ yeah theres something I really need to tell you _

Vaska:  _ in person _

Vaska:  _ gtg _

 

I stand up and start to walk over to Denisov’s house. I walk super slowly because there’s still another hour and a half until school gets out. I wonder what Denisov wants to tell me. I look at my phone again and see that I have another text. It’s from Mary this time.

Mary:  _ you okay? _

Mary:  _ have you texted Denisov? _

Mary:  _ he was worried about you. _

I text her back.

Fedya:  _ yeah i texted him earlier _

Mary:  _ did he tell you the thing? _

Fedya:  _ what thing? _

Mary:  _ i’m sure he’ll tell you _

Mary:  _ i have to go. Class is starting. _

Fedya:  _ okay _

 

I reach Denisov’s house about 3:30. I knock on the door, and Denisov’s mom answers the door. She smiles at me. “Oh, Fyodor! Vaska’s been expecting you. He’s upstairs, in his room. I trust you can find it on your own?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks.”

I walk slowly up the stairs to Denisov’s room: the first door on the left. I open it and Denisov stands from his seated position on his bed to greet me. 

“Fedya!” he says. “Are you okay?” He puts his hands on my shoulders. His eyes scan my body and eventually rest on my arm. “Take off your jacket,” he says.

“Vaska, I’m fine,” I protest. “It’s not a big deal-” 

“Fedya,” he repeats, his voice stern.

I sigh and oblige, removing my school bag from my shoulders before slipping off my sweatshirt.

Denisov winces slightly when he sees the wound. He looks at me, his expression unreadable. “Fedya, we need to treat that. It looks bad.”

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” I ask him, changing the subject.

“I’ll tell you if you let me bandage your arm.”

I sigh. “Fine, whatever.”

He pushes me down onto the bed before going to the bathroom and getting a first aid kit. He takes a deep breath as he digs through the kit for disinfectant. “So,” he says. “Kuragin-.”

“Anatole?”

“Who else?”

“Vaska, there our three Kuragins at our school-”

“Fine. Fucking  _ Anatole _ . Anyway, he asked about you. He seemed worried after yesterday.”

I blink at him. “You’re kidding.”

Denisov shakes his head enthusiastically. “I promise you, I’m not kidding. He came up to me and said, and I quote, ‘You’re Dolokhov’s friend right? I saw you yesterday.’ I told him, ‘Yeah. I saw you too.’ Then he asked me, ‘Why isn’t Dolokhov here? Is he alright?’.”

“What?”

“Fedya, I know how much like him and how long you’ve liked him, but you have to be careful. I couldn’t bear to see him hurt you, and as you must know, he’s not known for being the most trustworthy or relationship-committed.”

“Vaska, I know, but-”

“You can’t stop loving him, I get it,” Denisov says cooly. “I’m only saying that maybe you could actually pay attention to Mary and I for once after all the effort we use trying to make you happy, instead of endlessly pining after someone you’ve never even talked to.”

I open my mouth to respond, but just then, Denisov’s mom calls up, “Vaska! Is Fyodor staying the night?”

He snorts, “Fyodor. I almost forgot that’s your real name.” Then, his expression softens. “Are you, Fedya?”

I nod slowly. “Please. Vasily.”

He scowls at the sound of his real name. Then, “Yeah!” he calls back down. Then, he turns back to me. “Sorry for blowing up at you. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t get in the way of what you want.”

“Vaska, I-”

“Come on, you’re Fedya Dolokhov. For all that we know he’s already taken with you.”

“Stop it,” I say. “Everyone knows that he's straight.”

“Fedya-”

I lay down and sprawl my limbs out across the mattress. “I’m going to use your bed. I hope you don’t mind.”


	4. Chapter 4

The next day at school, I try to stay away from Anatole. He probably thinks I’m weak after what happened with Pierre. He also probably thinks I’m in love with Helene.  I do talk to Helene a bit. She apologizes for what happened with Pierre and that she didn’t try to stop him. I tell her that it’s fine, even though I’m still kind of pissed off about it.

I’m sitting at lunch when a girl comes up to me. I’ve seen her face before, but I don’t know her, name, as we have no classes together. “Fedya Dolokhov,” she says slowly, avoiding my eyes. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” I say. I take a deep breath when she doesn’t speak. “It’s private, isn’t it?” I sigh. I stand up and follow as she leads me just out of earshot of all the other kids.

“Fedya Dolokhov,” she repeats. 

“Yeah?” I say.

“I- Will you-? Um… I love you. I want to spent more time with you. I- You- Will you… um… go out with me?”

“I…” I swallow. “I don’t even know you.” Then I turn on my heel and walk away, feeling a little guilty.

“Wait!” she says. “Please wait! Please just give me a chance!”

“I said no,” I say sharply without bothering to turn around. “Look, I’m sorry, but ‘no’ means no. If you’re that desperate for a date, ask someone else.”

“But I-”

I don’t listen to her. I walk back over to Denisov and sit next to him. 

“What did she want?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Huh,” Denisov says, not buying it. “Did you knock out her boyfriend or something?”

“No,” I say. “At least, I don’t think so. It doesn’t concern you anyway. Why do you care about it so much?” I ask exasperatedly.

“Because you’re being so secretive about it. It’s making me curious.” He pauses. “Oh. Wait. Don’t tell me… Did she fucking ask you out?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, So?”

“Dude! What did you say?”

I look pointedly at him. “I said ‘no’, obviously. What did you expect? I haven’t given up yet. Or, maybe, I just can’t let him go, despite giving up.”

“Okay. Whatever. You still got asked out. This calls for celebration.”

“Vaska! What the fuck? Why?”

“Fedya, don’t swear,” Mary scolds.

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like Andrey doesn’t ever swear,” I mutter.

Mary looks confused. “He… doesn’t.”

Denisov and I break out laughing. I tell her, “Seriously, Mary. Every time he sees me, he’s just like. “Fucking Dolokhov. You fucking corrupted Mary. You fucking asshole. Fuck you. Go fuck yourself.”

Mary frowns. “He does not.”

Denisov looks at me, trying to keep himself from laughing. “Watch this,” he says.  “Andrey!” He yells to where Andrey sits with Pierre, Nikolay, Sonya,  and Natasha, two tables down. I can see Andrey frown as he stand up and walks over to us.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asks Denisov.

I start laughing, stealing a glance at Mary’s horrified expression.

Andrey glares at me. “What’s so funny? Fuck yourself Dolokhov.”

“Gladly,” I say.

Andrey makes a face. “You’re disgusting. You’ll never get anyone to like you. Now excuse me.”

“Hey, Fedya,” Denisov says. “Do you have work today?”

My eyes widen in realization. “Vaska! Fucking shit. I do, actually. I completely forgot. I have to go there right after school. Walk home without me, ‘kay?”

Denisov nods. “What would you do without me?

 

After school, I walk to the coffee shop I work at. I only have a job because I don’t have any other source of money, and the owner was desperate for more workers. Denisov and Mary come visit me here sometimes, but they’re both busy. Mary has practice for her church choir, and Denisov has a basketball game. He tried to make me join the basketball team with him, but, obviously, I couldn’t juggle that and work at the same time.

I walk into the shop and slip behind the counter. Then, I go into the back to change into my working clothes.

“Fedya! You’re here early,” one of my co-workers, Makarin, tells me. “Now I get off on my break earlier. Thanks!”

I sigh and walk over to the cash register. Yakov, another one of my co-workers is making the drinks. I look at the first person in line. “May I take your order?”

Almost an hour later, someone I recognize walks in. Nikolay Rostov. He walks up to me. “Hey, Dolokhov,” he says softly.

“Nikolay Rostov,” I say. “What can we get for you?”

He orders and clears his throat a bit awkwardly. “Also… um… I’m not trying to complain, but when can I have my notebook back?” he asks.

I’d forgotten that I still have it. “Oh,” I say. “Well…” I look at the clock in the back of the shop. “I have a break in 15 minutes, so you can wait for me, or I can give it to you at school tomorrow.”

“I’ll… er… I’ll just wait.”

“Okay.”

I look at the next customer as Nikolay walks away.  The customer does not look pleased. “Okay,” he says. “Now, I’ve been waiting here forever while you talked to that other guy. Can you take my order now?”

“Sure,” I sigh. “What can I get for you, sir?”

“A large, iced, vanilla latte, half regular-half decaf, with 4 pumps of vanilla and extra ice.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. I hate people who order stuff like that. “Can I get a name for that, sir?”

“Ivan.”

“Okay. Next?”

“Fedya?” Makarin asks. 

I turn. “Oh, you’re back. Am I on break now?”

He nods.

“How come  _ I  _ never get a break?” Yakov pouts. “I’ve been working longer than Fedya has.”

“Yeah,” Makarin says. “Well, you get a break in 10 minutes, when Fedya comes back, and your break is an hour long, not 10 minutes, like Fedya. Be grateful.”

I go into the back of the shop where I left my backpack, take off the apron I’m wearing and grab Nikolay’s notebook. I walk back out and see Nikolay sitting at a table. “Rostov,” I say. He looks up at me as I put the book down on the table and sit across from him.

“Hey,” he says. “Thanks. Um… how’s.... Denisov?”

“Vaska? He’s fine. Why?”

“I mean… we use to be really good friends, but then… we kind of stopped talking. I-”

“Sorry,” I say. “Did I scare you away from him?”

“Oh, no. We got into a fight. It was just after you transferred to our school in 2nd grade. He was making fun of you because he thought you had a crush on Anatole Kuragin, and I told him he was being mean.”

I laugh nervously. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I did used to have a crush on Anatole.”

“Used to?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I got over it, of course,” I lie. “I mean, he’s obviously straight. But like, don’t tell anyone, okay? I kind of want to forget about that.”

“Sure,” he nods.

“Fedya!” Yakov yells. “Get back over here! It’s been 10 minutes!”

“I have to go,” I tell Nikolay. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” I say. I get up and put my apron back on before going back to the register. I watch Nikolay leave before attending to the next customer, one of our regulars, Sonya Rostova. She’s Nikolay’s cousin. “Chai latte?”

She nods, smiling pleasantly, and presses a five dollar bill into my hand. “Keep the change,” she says. “It’s a tip.”

I smile back at her. I draw a smiley face on the cup next to her name. I do this for all of the regulars, because there aren't too many. If I was going to date any girl, it would probably be Sonya, I think. Then, I look towards the door as someone else I know walks in. Anatole.


	5. Chapter 5

I finish with the last person in line and Anatole walks up to me. He’s as good looking as ever. I try not to stare at him too intently. 

He smiles nervously. “Hi. Dolokhov.” He's as handsome up close as at a distance. 

“Anatole Kuragin,” I say, acknowledging him.

“Yeah…” he says slowly. “So… Helene is sick. Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a cold, but I figured I’d get her some tea, or something, but I don’t really know anything about tea… so…”

“Okay,” I say. I just give him black tea because I’m lazy and too tired to talk and I can tell that he feels kind of intimidated by me. 

“Also,” he says, leaning slightly across the counter and towards me. “Um… I’m sorry for making you angry the other day. I didn’t mean to. I hope you can forgive me.” He reaches to pay, but I wave him off. He looks at me with a confused expression.

“It’s on me,” I say. “Think of it as an apology for yelling at you.”

He looks a little bit more comfortable. “Thanks. Oh, also, is Makarin here? Can I talk to him?”

“Um,” I say. “He’s probably is the back. I’ll tell him you’re here.”

“Thanks again,” Anatole says, running a hand through his blonde hair, and fuck , I’m dying because he’s so fucking hot. Oh my- fuck. He smiles at me, and it's beautiful. 

“Hey!” the lady who was unfortunate enough to end up behind Anatole in line says to me. “Could you please stop flirting with hot blonde guy and pay attention to the other customers?”

“You are the only other customer, and you haven’t even been here that long, and I was  _ not  _ flirting with Anatole. Now what can I get for you, miss?”

“I’ll take a passion tea with honey.”

“I’m assuming you’d like that hot?”

She nods.

“Okay. That’d be $37.50.”

She is not amused.

“$3.75,” I say flatly. I watch her pay and leave to wait for her drink while I quickly slip into the back room where I see Makarin.

He looks up when he notices me. “Fedya? What’s up?”

“Anatole Kuragin is here to see you,” I tell him.

His eyes widen. “Anatole? I’ll be out in a moment. And what did I tell you about leaving the register, Fedya?”

I sigh. “There was no line, and I figured this’d be quick.”

“Whatever. Just get back before Yakov gets angry with you.”

“Yakov’s on break.”

“Who cares? Just get back so you can do your job.” 

I sigh and head back out to my spot at the cash register. What a surprise: nobody is waiting there. I roll my eyes and wait there. My shift ends in 4 minutes, so I only have a little longer.

There are no new customers by the time my shift is over, so I just head straight to the back, change, grab my stuff, and start to head out. As I pass through the shop, Makarin calls my name.

“Fedya! Come over here.”

“But my shift is over,” I say dumbly. I turn around and Makarin is with- oh, fuck- Anatole.

“No, no,” Makarin says. “You should meet Anatole. He’s a family friend of mine.”

“I- er- already know him,” I say stupidly. It seems like everything I say is stupid. “We… uh… go to school… together… so… yeah. Um… say hi to Helene for me. I have to-” I start to turn but a hand catches my arm. I turn around and- “Anatole?” I say. I manage to keep my voice sounding calm, but my mind is screaming. Anatole just-

He takes a step back. “Sorry. I just, um… Do you hate me? You always kind of seem to avoid me, and I-” He looks a little confused and... disappointed? Almost? Yet, he still manages to maintain his handsomeness no matter what he does. It’s a little overwhelming.

Oh, so he  _ did _ notice that I was avoiding him. That’s just great. I try to cover for myself. “I don’t hate you. I just- we’re not really friends, so I never saw a point in talking to you.”

“Oh,” he says simply. “Thanks for the drink. I’m sure Helene will appreciate it. Do you want to come see her? You two are a thing, right?”

My eyes widen. “What? No. No. I just- It’s complicated, but we don’t like each other like that. It was all a misunderstanding. I-”

“But Pierre-”

I cut him off, “That’s the complicated part.”

“Okay. I’ll tell her hi for you.  _ Adieu, mon cher _ .” He leans forward and quickly kisses me on the cheek. “See you around, Fedya.”

I am dying. Correction: I am dead. Anatole- Oh  _ fuck _ , Anatole just kissed me on the cheek and I can’t even think. Then, I furrow my brow in confusion. “You didn’t used to call me that,” I say.

He shrugs. “But we’re friends now, right?”

“Sure, yeah,” I tell him, turning and walking out. I walk quickly until I reach Denisov’s house. His game should be over by now, and he should be home. I wonder as I knock on the door, if I should tell him about what happened. Denisov has always seemed kind of skeptical about Anatole, but I’ll probably end up telling him anyway.

 

When I walk into Denisov’s room, he is lying on the bed, doing homework.

“Hi, Vaska,” I say. “How was your game?”

“Fine. We won. That’s good. I got fouled. Twice. But whatever. How was work? Boring as ever? Did Yakov yell at you?”

He’s come to visit me at work enough times that he knows my co-workers. I sigh. “It was wonderful, actually.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“Anatole happened.”

“You saw Kuragin? Oh. Tell me more.” He puts down the book he’s reading in order to look at me.

I sit down on the bed beside him. “So… he like… came in and told me he was ‘sorry for making me angry the other day’. So then, I felt bad that I hadn’t apologized, so I offered to pay for his drink as an apology, and then, he called me ‘ _ mon cher _ ’ and kissed me on the cheek, and fuck, Vaska, I’m dying. Save me.” My cheeks are flushed, and I said most of that in one breath, so my breathing has gotten heavier.

Denisov is silent for a moment before his lips curl into a smile. “Well, fuck man! That’s awesome.”

I exhale loudly. “I know it’s really not much. I mean, Anatole flirts with everybody, but...”

“Vaska! Dinner!” Denisov’s mom calls from downstairs.

Denisov looks at me.  “Are you even physically capable of moving right now?” he asks, a little skeptically.

“No,” I say. “Tell your mom I ate at work.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. I hope you get homework done in the time you’re alone, but we all know how likely that is. And I won’t let you copy mine today.”

I groan. “Tomorrow…” I say before he leaves. “I might try to go back home.”

Denisov’s eyes widen. “Good luck then.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took way too long and it's a little shorter than usual. I have so much schoolwork and it's very overwhelming.
> 
> Also, Hippolyte is very ooc in this. (just FYI)

After school the next day, I’m kind of dreading going home, so I stall for about an hour before actually deciding to go home. Most people have already gone home.

I hear someone scream my name. “Fedya Dolokhov!”

I turn around and look at the speaker. It’s some angry boy around my age that I have literally never seen before in my life. “What do you want?” I ask, my voice low.

“You’re the one who rejected Julie.” It’s a statement.

“I don’t know anyone named Julie,” I say. “I did reject someone yesterday, but I never caught her name, I guess… maybe it was Julie…”

“Okay, whatever. Just shut the fuck up and listen-”

“Let me guess,” I sigh. “You liked her, or something, and now you’re upset because I don’t. Look, I don’t choose who I like. Okay? Just fuck off.”

The boy’s mouth hangs slightly open. He closes it quickly and says, “No. I won’t fuck off. I’ll fight you. That’s your thing, right? They call you ‘Dolokhov the Assassin’, but you can be that strong if Pierre Bezukhov almost killed you. I heard Anatole Kuragin had to stop him before you passed out-”

“Shut the fuck up!” I scream at him. I launch myself at him, throwing a fist at him. I feel it connect with his jaw, and it feels good. I missed this feeling. I punch him again, in his stomach this time. He tries to hit me, but I move out of the way and move into position for another strike. Then, suddenly, I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist from behind. 

“Fedya. Fedya, calm down.’

I turn my head to see a familiar figure. “A-Anatole…?” I say. “What are you doing? Let go of me. That guy- he-”

Anatole moves his hands to my shoulders. “Fedya,” he says again. “He’s just jealous of you. He wants you to make a fool of yourself.”

“He’s the one making a fool of himself,” I growl. “Now let go of me, Anatole.” I push his shoulder. Hard. 

He stiffens, but withdraws his hands from my shoulders. “I have to go.”

“Wait,” I say, suddenly desperate not to make the same mistake twice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine, Fedya. You worry too much. You’ll get wrinkles.” He flicks my forehead playfully. “See you.”

The boy speaks again once Anatole is out of earshot. “What the fuck?” he says. “Since when are you friends with Anatole Kuragin? Is that why you’re so full of yourself? Because you’re friends with some hot guy?” he growls at me. I have no idea why he’s so bothered by me talking to Anatole.

“No!” I say. “And I’m not full of myself. You practically challenged me. Then, you proceeded to insult me, so I got mad and punched you. What’s wrong with that? Oh, are you such a baby that you can’t even take that? Well, sorry. That’s not my fault. Leave me alone.” I turn on my heel and walk away, my mind defaulting to thinking about Anatole, because I never have time to focus on him when he’s touching me.

As I walk out of the gate that marks the campus grounds, I notice a figure curled up on the cement. I walk over. “Hey, are you alright?” I ask.

The person looks up and  realize that it’s none other than Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin. “Oh, hi Fedya,” he says. “What’s up?”

“I could ask the same thing to you,” I tell him. “Why are you here? I thought you were going home.”

He sighs, biting his lip and avoiding my eyes. “Well, that’s where I was going, but I ran into my brother. I-” he sniffs a little. “I don’t know why he was so mad at me, but he shoved me and said, ‘Anatole, you’re such a fucking slut. Don’t even bother coming home’. I hate him, Fedya. I-”

I kneel down beside him. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I would offer to accommodate you, but I don’t really have the best family situation either, so…”

He smiles, a little sadly. “It’s fine. Thanks for worrying.”

“Is there anything I can do for you? Are you cold or something? I mean- It’s just-”

“Fedya,” he cuts me off, standing and bringing me up with him. He places his hands on my cheeks. He giggles slightly. “Fedya, you’re blushing.”

“I- oh, fuck- your hands are cold. Um… anyway…” I try to focus, but Anatole isn’t making that easy. 

“So, why were you fighting with that guy?”

“It’s… I don’t really feel like explaining.”

“Let me guess… a girl he liked confessed to you, and you rejected her, so he got mad and challenged you.”

I blink. “How did you know all that?”

He sighs. “It’s not an uncommon occurrence. It happens to me all the time. I just usually handle it differently.” He winks. “Maybe you should get going. See you tomorrow, Fedya.”

“See you tomorrow,” I echo. I start to turn away, but I look back at him. I take off my jacket and hand it to him. “You should take it. It’s cold, and if you’re not going to go home, you should at least-”

“Thanks,” he cuts me off. “You’re the best,  _m_ _ on ami _ .” He winks. 

I almost die of embarrassment right there, but, instead, I force myself to walk away, somewhat calmly. I push away the strong desire to grab his shoulders, push him up against a wall, and kiss him until we’re both out of breath. 

Insead, I walk back to my house and am surprised to find a police car parked in front of it. A man steps out and approaches me. “I presume you are Fyodor Ivanovich Dolokhov?”

I nod, soundlessly.

“My name is Ilya Rostov. I believe you go to school with my children.”

I nod again.

“I regret to inform you that your father passed away two nights ago.”


	7. Chapter 7

“I regret to inform you that your father passed away two nights ago.”

A simple “oh,” is all I can manage.

“May I pry as to why you haven’t been home?”

“How did he die?” I ask, ignoring the question.

The man sighs. “Drug overdose. Did you know about this?”

“Drugs? No. I knew he was drinking, but…”

“I’ll ask again. Why haven’t you been home the past two days?”

“I was- He- My dad kicked me out. I came home, and he hit me with a glass bottle and told me to get out, so I was at my friends house,” I say. “Sorry I didn’t want to die being hit and stabbed with glass bottles.”

He ignores my comment. “I found someone willing to take you in. She’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Nonsense! I don’t need-”

“Yes, you do. Besides, there are people other than you who will benefit from this.”

“Oh.” This is too much to take in all at at time. I start to feel a little unsteady, my consciousness slipping away, until I black out completely.

 

When I come to, I’m sitting in the back of a car. I start to freak out before I realize that it’s not moving. “What?” I say dumbly, to nobody in particular. Then, I notice a little girl sitting in the seat beside me.

“You’re awake,” she says.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say back. “Who are you? What am I doing here?”

“Mom says that your family passed away, so you’ll be living with us now. Nice to meet you. Fedya Dolokhov.”

“How do you know my name?”

“It was on all the papers in your backpack.”

“Oh,” I say. “What’s your name?”

“Lisa Drubetskoy.”

“Okay, Lisa. Um… where’s your mom?”

“Outside, talking to Officer Rostov. I should tell her that you’re awake. I’ll do that right now. Oh, also, Officer Rostov said to give this to you. He found it in the house.” She hands me a book. I recognize it immediately as my old diary from 2nd or 3rd grade. It’s one of those  _ Keep Out _ ones with a lock on it. How childish. I cringe internally. It’s no doubt filled with long passages about Anatole. I suddenly feel very self conscious as I take it.

“Did you read it?” I ask Lisa.

She looks at me weirdly. “Of course not. It’s locked.” She hops out of the car, leaving me alone.

I turn the diary over in my hands and manage to pick the lock with my pinky nail. I flip it open to the first page and read:

  
  


_ October 3rd _

_ Hello. This is Fedya. I’m only writing in this because Mary gave it to me. Diarys are stupid. Mary is nice though. She’s my friend. Also, if your anyone whos not me dont read this or i will hate you forever. It's private. Also, shame on you for breaking the lock. _

  
  


I continue.

  
  


_ October 4th _

_ So today at school we learned that paragraphs should be indented so i'm practicng with this entry. The indent is the space before you start writing. Also, long story short theres this guy. His name is  Anatole. _

 

-oh, fuck. Here it comes-

 

_ Anyway, hes like really pretty. I think i have a crush on him maybe but we dont really no eatch other. I really hope he hasnt noticed that i’m always looking at him. That would be embarassing. _

  
  


I shut the book, blushing furiously. Why the fuck did I ever write that?

Then, Lisa and her mom come back in the car. 

“Hello,” Mrs. Drubetskoy says to me. 

“Hi,” I say back, awkwardly. “Thanks for… stuff.”

She laughs. “Your welcome. So, I'd think you'd want to skip school tomorrow. Am I right?”

“Yeah, probably,” I murmur. 

“Okay. I'll let you do that because you've probably been havre a hard past 24 hours. You go to the same high school as one of my daughters goes there, but she's on the Spanish exchange trip. Lisa will be going there in five years. I know you'll have graduated by then though. Are you planning on going to university?”

“No money,” I say awkwardly. 

She hums. “Sorry to hear that. Do you have a job? Just let me know so I can drive you when you need it.”

“Thanks, but that won't be necessary. I've been fine walking.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Lisa asks. 

I shake my head.

“A boyfriend?”

I shake my head again. 

“Lisa!” her mom scolds. “Those are personal questions. Try to be more considerate.”

“Sorry,” Lisa says. “Oh, isn't your school doing a musical soon?”

I nod. “The theater club is.”

“Mm hm. My sister is in the theater club.”

“My other daughter,” Mrs. Drubetskoy explains. “She's a sophomore, but she's on the Spanish exchange trip.”

Now I know why the name sounded familiar. “Anna Mikhailovna… right?”

“Yes. You know her?”

“I know  _ of  _ her. She's like the fashion-gossip queen of the school.”

Mrs. Drubetskoy pulls into a driveway. “Well, Fyodor- is that what I should call you?”

“Uh, I usually just go by ‘Fedya’.”

“Fedya, then. Cleared out a bedroom for you. It was Lisa’s brother's. He just went off to college. Anyway, you should try to rest, and I have to call and inform the school of this development. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And, Lisa, you should start getting ready for bed too. It's almost your bedtime.”

I pull out my phone and check the time. 8:21. I didn't realize it had gotten so late. Then, I remember Anatole. I wonder if he's alright. 

As the car stops, I open the car door, and step out, the diary clutched tightly in my hands. Lisa coed over and grabs the gem of my shirt, tugging on it. “Follow me,” she says. 

I do as she says and walk along a hallway that I can't manage to pay attention to until Lisa opens a door and leads me inside. It's a bedroom. It's quite bare, but it's something, and it's last minute, so I don't complain.”

“My mom will come in soon. She’ll bring you a change of clothes. I have to go to bed. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I murmur. 

 

Mrs. Drubetskoy comes in a few minutes later with a pile of clothes in her hands. She hands them to me. “Sorry. These might be a little big. But you shouldn't sleep in what you've been wearing all day. Take those off and I’ll wash them.”

“Oh, these are Vaska’s clothes,” I remember, talking mostly to myself. 

Mrs. Drubetskoy raises an eyebrow at me. 

“It's nothing,” I assure her. I take the clothes from her and start to pull my t-shirt off, over my head.

Mrs. Drubetskoy leaves me alone to change without saying another word. She comes back in and collects the clothes I was wearing after telling me to try to sleep. 

I lay down on the bed, but I'm not tired at all. I can't close my eyes. I think about things instead. The usual things: Anatole, Denisov, and so on. The diary is lying on the bed next to me, but I don't bother moving it. Eventually, I manage to let sleep find me.


	8. Chapter 8

When I wake up, the sun is shining brightly through the window. It takes me a moment to remember where I am. I look to the bedside table, where I left my phone last night. I pick it up and check the time. 1:53pm. Ugh. It's late. Then I realize I have sixty-one unread text messages, most of which are from Vaska, the rest are from Mary. 

Vaska:  _ hey. You ok? _

Vaska:  _ y rnt u at school? _

Vaska:  _ the teachers said u have ‘special circumstances’ _

Vaska:  _ what does that mean? _

Vaska:  _ y rnt u answering me? _

Vaska:  _ r u dead??? _

Vaska:  _ FEDYAAAAAAA _

Vaska:  _ oh, kuragin asked about you again _

Vaska:  _ y does he care about you so much?? _

Vaska:  _ last time I checked you guys weren't even friends _

Vaska:  _ what the hell happened??? _

Vaska:  _ I guess I'm happy for you though _

Vaska:  _ r u mad at me?? _

 

And there's  _ a lot  _ more. I don't even read them all, but I text him so that he doesn't worry. 

Fedya:  _ hi _

Fedya:  _ sry family emergency… long story _

Fedya:  _ tell you later  _

 

Then I read the texts from Mary. There are only 5. 

Mary:  _ I just wanted to check in and make sure you're doing alright.  _

Mary:  _ I'm sure Denisov has already texted you _

Mary:  _ he was really worried  _

Mary:  _ anyway, hope you're okay _

Mary:  _ bye _

 

I sigh and put my phone down beside me on the bed. I hope Vaska’s not mad at me. It's not my fault Anatole asked. I still don't know why he started suddenly paying attention to me. I really hope he didn't notice. 

Then, Mrs. Drubetskoy enters with a large cardboard box. “Oh! You're awake,” she notices. 

“Yeah,” I say. 

“Sleep well?”

I shrug. 

“Okay. Well, I got some of your clothes from your old house, so you can put some of them on. They're all in this box. I'm going to go to the grocery store. Call me if you need anything. I'll write down my number for you.” I hand her the pen from the diary, and she scribbles something on the edge of the cardboard box. 

“Do you have work tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Movie theater. But not until late. Do you need something.”

“Yeah. I really hate to ask you now, but I have a doctor’s appointment because I've been having back problems, and this was the only time I could book an appointment, so it would mean the world if you could pick up Lisa from school.”

“Sure.”

“ Also, are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“I don't want to bring up a sore subject or anything, but your arm… is it alright?”

I look down. Oh. The bandages. “Yeah, it's fine,” I lie. 

“How did you get it? You don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

“My dad… he hit me with a glass bottle. I think he was aiming for my head, but he missed. That was… lucky… I guess…”

“I'm sorry,” she says. 

 

When I go back to school the next day, Denisov is the first to approach me. 

He looks angry. “Fedya, what the fuck? ‘Family emergency’ my ass. You could have explained a bit more.” Then his features soften and his posture becomes more relaxed. “What happened?” he asks, softly. “Did your dad hurt you again? Where were you? I tried to go to your house, but there were police officers…”

“My dad is dead,” I say slowly. “Then, this random family took me in and I… I just don't even know what life is anymore. Help, Vaska.”

He leans forward, embracing me slowly. “Fedya, I'm so sorry. I know you probably don't want to talk about it. Let's find Mary, yeah?” he says, pulling away. 

I nod.  

 

As I enter Chemistry class, Anatole pulls me aside. I still haven't gotten used to him touching me, so I grow flustered. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I respond. 

“Why weren't you here yesterday?”

I shrug, not really wanting to talk about it. “Stuff happened. It's all fine.”

He presses something to my chest. “Your jacket,” he says simply. “Thanks for… everything.”

“Uh… you're welcome. Are things better with your brother?”

His face falls. “Not really. I went home last night though. I regret it. Sleeping outside was better.”

“Does Helene know about this?”

“Yeah, but Hippolyte doesn't listen to anybody, so it doesn't make a difference.” He pauses. 

“I can fight him,” I say. “If you want,” I add quickly. “I don't want you to be upset like this because… because we're friends.” The end sounds almost like a question. 

“Because we’re friends,” Anatole repeats. Then he leans closer, a scheming smile on his face. “Please” he says, then clarifies, “fight my brother. You can tell him I told you to.”

“I will.”

He tries his arms around my neck. “Thanks, Fedya. You're the best person ever. Marry me.”

“What?”

He laughs. “It was a joke.”

“Right.” 

“Unless you want to marry me…?”

I shake my head. 

Marya Dmitryevna walks to the front of the classroom and glares at us. “Sit down!” she barks. “Class is starting, Mr. Dolokhov, Mr. Kuragin.”

“Sorry,” I mutter. 

“I'd like to talk to both of you after class.”

“Yes ma’am,” I say. 


	9. Chapter 9

After class, Marya Dmitryevna talks to Anatole and I. “I'd think, by this time in the school year, you'd know to be in your seats by the time class starts, not flirting and scheming in the corner.”

“With all due respect, we weren't… doing either of those things,” Anatole tells her. “We were just talking.”

“I know you, Anatole Kuragin. You can't fool me so easily. You said, and I quote, ‘Thanks, Fedya. You’re the best person ever. Marry me.’”

“It was a joke!” Anatole protests. 

Marya Dmitryevna ignores him and turns to me. “And, Mr. Dolokhov, I've been trying to cut you some slack because of your… situation, but I can still give you detention if I feel fit.”

I nod. 

“That's all. You're dismissed.”

As we leave the classroom, Anatole grins at me. “Still want to beat up Hippolyte?”

I grin back and nod. 

 

By the end of the day, I find myself back in Marya Dmitryevna’s classroom. 

“Mr. Dolokhov,” she says sternly. “Did you not hear me earlier, or did you just disregard everything I said? It doesn't matter what the answer is, you get detention either way.” She hands me a paper slip. “I'll be sending your guardian an email, so have them sign this slip. Serve your detention at lunch tomorrow. Both the Kuragin brothers will be there too, just to show that I'm not picking on you in particular.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say. I turn and walk out the door, shoving the slip into my pocket. I feel bad that Anatole gets detention too. He didn't really do anything. Getting to hit Hippolyte was worth a million detentions though. (And Anatole hugged me afterwards.)

I head to go pick up Lisa from school and walk her home. She gets out in 20 minutes, so I try to walk as quickly as possible. I wish I could drive at times like this, but, then, I remember that, even if I did, I still wouldn't have a car. I see Lisa walk out alongside another girl. 

When Lisa sees me, she waves to the other girl and heads towards me. “Hi,” she says. “Where's my mom?”

“At the doctor’s,” I tell her. “Don't worry, she's fine. She'll be home soon.”

“Hey. Fedya?”

“Yeah? What?”

“My best friend says that her brother knows you.”

“Hm. Really? Who's her brother?”

“Pierre, I think his name was. Bezukhov.”

“Huh. Pierre. He hates me. I don't know why.”

“My friend said that you tried to steal his girlfriend and proceeded to fight him.”

“He hated me before that. Also… that's not exactly what happened. I was asking his girlfriend about her brother, and Pierre hates his girlfriend anyway, so I don't know why he cared so much, and then, he tried to choke me to death. And I got detention, even though I didn't do anything.”

“Oh. And the house is that one.” She points to a house a block down. We walk to it and Lisa finds the spare key under the doormat. 

 

When Mrs. Drubetskoy comes home, she comes straight to my room and sits next to me on the side of the bed. “Look, Fedya. I don't want to be hard on you. I hope you know that. But, I also want to know why you have detention for ‘violent behavior’.”

I decide playing dumb will get me nowhere. Better to get this over with. “Because I punched a guy in the face.”

“Why?”

I pause. “Because he hurt my friend.”

“How? I'm not trying to be mean, I just want to understand.”

“Okay. This will be easier if I use names, so… the guy I punched was named Hippolyte, and he has a brother named Anatole. Anatole is my friend, and I'd do anything for him. Anyway, one day, I'm coming home from school late, because I don't want to face my dad, and I see Anatole outside the school gates, and I say, ‘Hey. Why haven't you gone home?’, and he says, ‘Hippolyte was being really mean and I don't want to go home and be with him.’ He had to sleep  _ outside _ , and Hippolyte doesn't even care, because he hates Anatole, and he's always just out to hurt Anatole, and I can't stand it. 

“So I come back to school today, and I see Anatole, so I ask him how things are going with Hippolyte and he says, ‘Terribly. I went home last night, but sleeping outside was better than being with my brother’. Now this was right before lunch, so at lunch, I go up to Hippolyte and tell him not to be mean to Anatole, and I punch him to teach him a lesson, and he deserved it.” 

“I'm sorry that your friend was treated badly, but punching people isn't okay.”

“I know it's not okay, but what he did wasn't okay either.”

“Lisa told me a story about you and her friend’s brother too. Something about a girlfriend. What was that about?”

What? I can't tell her I have a crush on Anatole. What do I do. “Well, uh, Anatole and Hippolyte have a sister, Helene. Helene has a boyfriend, who’s Lisa’s friend’s brother, Pierre. I don't even know _why_ they're dating, because they don't like each other very much, but anyway… Now I'm talking to Helene about her brothers, and Pierre comes up to us and he’s like, ‘Dolokhov, why are you trying to steal my girlfriend?’ I tried to tell him that I wasn't, but he wouldn't listen to me. Then he tried to choke me, and I'm pretty sure he wants me dead, because the only reason I'm still alive is because Anatole came and made him stop.”

“I'm starting to learn what type of person you are. Do you need me to sign a slip?”

I remember the crumpled paper in my pocket, and take it from there, trying to smooth out the paper as best as possible. 

As she signs it, I tell her, “I should go to work. I'll be back around 9:00.”

“Okay. Lisa usually goes to bed at 8:30, so just be quiet coming back in, okay? Good luck.”

“Thanks. Also, thanks for understanding about… the other stuff.”

“You're welcome.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today! (I'm proud of myself)   
> I was off school today cuz I had to take the psat, so I had time to write  
> hope y'all enjoy

At lunch the next day, I sit glumly in Marya Dmitryevna’s room with Anatole and Hippolyte. We have to have a one on one ‘talk’ with Marya Dmitryevna about our actions and their affect on others, then write lines. 

We each have to write a line of what we think we did wrong 200 times with each arm. I have to write  _ I will not punch people _ ,  Anatole has to write,  _ I will not encourage Fedya to punch people _ , and Hippolyte has to write  _ I will not say mean things to people _ . 

When we leave the classroom, I approach Anatole. “Sorry you got detention too,” I say. “You didn't deserve it. It was all my fault.”

He shakes his head. “It was worth it. Seeing that look on Hippolyte’s face was hilarious. Also, you should have seen his face when he figured out he had detention. That was even funnier. Besides, I know how to spell your name very well now.”

I laugh. “I’ll be writing in my sleep.”

“Hey, Fedya. Are you free this Saturday?”

“Yeah, I think so. Today is Thursday, right?”

“Mm hm. So… Helene wants to have this party Saturday, and she said that I could invite whoever, so I think you should come. If you want. If you can. It will probably be a lot if people though. I don't know if you're a fan of crowds… but would you?”

“I- sure. I'll come.”

“Really?” He smiles cheerfully. “Promise?”

“I promise I'll try.” 

“Okay. You can text me later, if you want. I'll give you my my phone number, and you can give me yours.”

Oh my god. He's asking to exchange phone numbers. Anatole Kuragin, the guy I've been in love with since 2nd grade is asking me to a party, and asking for my phone number, and he's smiling at me, and he's so perfect. I'm dying. 

“Fedya, are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah. Do you have a pen?”

“Yeah, here.” He hands me a sharpie. “Just write on my hand.”

I tentatively take his hand in mine. His skin is so smooth and unblemished, and I almost don't want to write on it. 

Once I'm done, he does the same to me, and I'm having trouble thinking about anything other than the fact that he's  kind of holding my hand. “Do you have work after school today?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“I'll come visit you. Where?”

“The coffee shop. And, Anatole?”

“What's up?”

“I know you're just a huge flirt, but I really appreciate everything you do. I know that sounds super cheesy, but thanks.”

“Fedya, that's literally the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I would kiss you, but I doubt you would want me to.” He giggles. 

_ Of course I want you to _ , I think, but I obviously don't  _ say  _ that. Instead I say, “Yeah, probably not.”

Then, the warning class bell rings, saving me from the conversation. I start to walk to history class, but I can't think about anything except for Anatole. He said he would kiss me. I try to clear the thoughts out of my head. 

After history, I have Russian, then school is over for the day. In Russian, I get my test for last chapter back. I get points taken off because, for my name, I wrote  _ Федя  _ (Fedya) instead of  _ Феодор  _ (Fyodor). Annoying. Stupid fucking 98%. I would have gotten a perfect score if not for the name. I crumple it up and throw it in the trash can. I took Russian because I'm already fluent, so it's an easy A.

 

At work, Anatole comes, as he told me he would. I talk with him when I go on break. 

“Did you hear? Natalie dumped Andrey.”

“Natasha? You call her Natalie? I didn't realize she dumped Andrey. Why? They've been together since 8th grade.”

“I don't know. I thought it was weird too. They always seemed so natural together.”

“But like I hate Andrey, and Natasha probably deserves better.”

“She does. She's very nice and beautiful. I've talked to her a couple times. She sits next to me in French class. She addresses people weirdly though. She calls me  _ Anatole Vasilyevich _ and she calls Pierre  _ Pyotr Kirillovich _ . It takes a little getting used to.”

“Hmm.”

“Also, the Spanish students get home this Saturday. It's been so quiet with Anna gone.”

I falter.  _ Anna Mikhailovna Drubetskoy _ . “Yeah,” I say simply. “It's kind of relaxing though. I find it nice to be able to walk around without people crowding me about weird gossip they heard.”

“I know,” Anatole agrees. “There are rumors about me having a thing with almost everyone in the school, including my sister. I was trying to kiss her on the cheek. It's a common courtesy. But then she moved her head.”

I read between the lines. 

“Fedya!” Makarin yells. “Your break was over 2 minutes ago!”

“Coming”! I yell back.

When I get back to the cash register, Nikolay is there. He says, “I didn't know you were friends with Anatole Kuragin.”

I shrug. “I don't really know how it happened. It just sort of… did.” 

“Does he know you used to have a crush on him?”

I shrug, trying to keep myself seeming nonchalant because I am very aware that Anatole is still in the shop. “Probably not, but it doesn't matter either way. It's in the past.”

When he gives me his order, I subconsciously write his name in Russian, because I've been thinking about the test. I write:  _ Николай _ . When Yakov gets it, he turns and yells at me. “Fedya! Why is this in Russian? I can't read Russian and you know that! Stop trying to show off.”

Everyone in the shop turns to look at me, and I manage to stammer out, “Sorry. I wasn't thinking.” I hold out my hand and he gives back the cup. I hear Anatole laugh. I cross the name out with a single line and write:  _ Nikolay  _ underneath. God, that was embarrassing. 


	11. Chapter 11

The next day at school, everyone is talking about Andrey and Natasha breaking up. In Chemistry class, Anatole is crowded by people. 

“Is it true?” Someone asks. 

Anatole smiles nervously and scratches the back of his neck. His face is flushed with embarrassment. “I guess so.”

When the crowd goes away, it's time to start class. I'll talk to him after. 

 

After class, I approach Anatole. “Is what true?”

He frowns a little in confusion before realizing what I'm referring to. “Oh… that. I… I, um, I started dating Natalie.” He leans into my ear. “It's not what you think. I'm not one for relationships, I just felt bad for her.”

“Felt bad for her?”

“Fedya, I'm sorry. I can't tell you any more.” He smiles sadly and kisses my cheek, then leaves the room. 

I stay there for a moment before leaving the room after him. I don't want to see anyone right now, so I go into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall. I feel my eyes getting wet and tears start to roll down my cheeks. I don't know why this is such a big deal for me. I knew I never had a chance with Anatole in the first place… but he never seemed so serious about loving anyone else before. 

Either way, I shouldn't be crying over something like this. I shouldn't be crying at all. I'm supposed to be fierce. Then, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I have a text from Denisov. 

Vaska:  _ hey where r u? _

Vaska:  _ r u ok? _

Vaska:  _ are you sick?? _

Vaska:  _ fedyaaaaa _

Vaska:  _ omg _

Vaska:  _ it's kuragin isn't it? _

Vaska:  _ I'm so so so sorry _

 

I don't respond. I don't know what I would say to him anyway. ‘ _ Hey Vaska. I'm crying in the bathroom right now I'll probably skip history and I'm super depressed but don't worry about me I'm fine _ ’?

Instead, I call Makarin. 

“Hey, Fedya. What's up? Aren't you supposed to be at school?”

“I don't think I can make it to work today.”

“Oh my god. You sound terrible. Are you crying? What happened? Are you okay?”

I don't want to answer any of those questions, so I hang up. The tears have stopped, but I'm still breathing heavily, my chest heaving. 

Why? Why did I have like him of all people? Why did I have to fall in love with someone I can never have? Why is my life terrible? Why doesn't Anatole love me?

I stay there through all of history and Russian until school gets out. The time passed painfully slowly, but it's better than going to class and having to do work and having all my classmates be like, ‘Dolokhov, why are your eyes red? Why is your voice hoarse? Were you crying? What a joke’.

When the final bell rings, I get up and run home as fast as possible. No one is home, so I open the door with the spare key, go inside. I shut myself in my room and fall onto the bed. 

I try not to think about Anatole. I try everything. I try listening to music, doing push-ups, reading, but nothing works. I eventually give up.

At least I don't have school tomorrow. There is the party though. I don't want to go, so I decide that I won't. I don't want to see Anatole. Correction: I don't want to see Anatole with Natasha. 

Then I crawl under the covers of the bed and look at my instagram feed. The Spanish students get back tomorrow. Helene posted a party invitation. Anatole is as handsome as ever. Natasha posted a video of herself singing. I don't watch it or like it. I don't want to think about her. I have a message. It's from Denisov. I don't bother to look at it. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh this took forever to write and i still don't know if I like it very much, but here...

 

The next day, I'm sitting in my room, reading my history textbook, when the door opens, and none other than Anna Mikhailovna walks in followed by her mother. She stops once she's within two feet of me. 

“Well, well. If it isn't Fedya Dolokhov in the flesh.”

“I know. Exciting,” I say sarcastically.

Mrs. Drubetskoy looks moldy confused as she looks at Anna. “You know him?”

“Well… I know  _ of _ him. ‘Dolokhov the Assassin’, and all that.”

“‘Dolokhov the Assassin’?” Mrs. Drubetskoy asks, looking at me questioningly. 

“Never killed anyone,” I say. “Whoever came up with that nickname is stupid.”

“You kill people's hearts. Julie said you rejected her.”

“Yeah, so? It's not like  _ Anatole Kuragin _ has never rejected anyone. You don't call  _ him _ an assassin.”

“Hey. I didn't make it up. Besides, Anatole has plenty of nasty rumors going around about him. I heard he picked up with Natasha Rostova.”

“Yeah. Do you know why she dumped Andrey? I've been wondering.”

Mrs. Drubetskoy smiles. “I'm glad you two are getting along. I'll leave you alone.”

Anna smiles before turning back to me and sitting down beside me on the bed. “I have no idea.”

“How was Spain?”

“It had good food. I feel like I missed so much. What's been up with you?”

“The usual,” I reply simply. I don't mention that my feelings for Anatole are stronger than ever. 

“Is that so? Who was the latest victim.”

“Don't call them ‘victims’. That makes it sound like they didn't do anything wrong.”

“Fine. But actually, who was it?”

“Hippolyte Kuragin.”

“Ooh. Why? I heard you had a thing with Helene. Was that-?”

“No. It doesn't matter why.”

“But it does matter. If you don't tell me, I'll asks Hippolyte.”

“Someone asked me to, okay? That's it. Stop bugging me about it. Don't think I won't punch you just because you're a girl. I'm not sexist.”

“Oh, I don't doubt that you would punch me, but the problem is that our  _ classmates _ are sexist. They'd be like, ‘What? Dolokhov punched Anna Mikhailovna? But she's a  _ girl _ ! What a mean guy’. But, since I'm nice, I won't ask you anymore.”

There's a silence before Anna breaks it. “Are you going to the Kuragins’ tonight?”

“No. Are you?”

“Yeah. If it's because you don't want to ask my mom, I can drive you. I have a license.”

“No. I just don't want to go. But. Um. I promised Anatole I would, so if you see him, tell him sorry for me.”

“He invited you personally?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Then you  _ have _ to go. They don't do that to everybody, you know. Come on. If you still don't want to, I'll drag you there by force.” Then, her face softens. “Is there someone you don't want to see?”

I nod. 

“Who?”

“None of your business.”

“ _ Dolokhov _ .”

“It doesn't matter because it doesn't make a difference. No matter who it is, I'm still not going.”

“I'll be there. I'll stick with you.”

“Why are you going through all this trouble? You don't even know me.”

“Because… my brother just entered college across the country, and my dad is dead, as is yours. I understand how you feel. I know I seen all snooty and vain, but I actually care about people.”

“Fine. I'll go if you actually care that much.”

“You'll be glad.”

“If I regret it, I'm blaming you.”

 

By the time we're going, Anna looks completely different. She's wearing makeup, for one, and her hair is curled. I tried somewhat to calm my dark curls, but, after I realized I wasn't getting anywhere, I gave up. We're both dressed rather casually. 

She grabs my hand and leads me to the garage. “I'm not supposed to drive anyone but family members, but you're _technically_ a family member. Get in.” She gestures to the shotgun seat, so I obey and get in. She gets in on the driver’s side and starts the car. 

“Is your mom okay with us going out?”

“It's fine. She's not home. She has this ‘girls group’ that meets every Saturday. She'll be home around 1:00 AM. We have plenty of time.”

I somehow don't find that answer very comforting. 

 

Anna pulls into the Kuragins’ driveway at around 8:30. Anna steps out of the car and I follow her to the front porch. When she knocks, Helene answers. 

“Oh!” She says. She looks beautiful, seeming to sparkle in the light. “Anna Mikhailovna! It seems you've been gone forever! I'm so glad to see you.” She kisses Anna on the cheek. There must be something with Kuragins and casually kissing people on the cheek.  She turns to me. “Dolokhov. I wasn't expecting you to show up… Anatole will want to see you. Shall I find him?”

“No,” I say a little too strongly. Anna and Helene both look at me oddly. I try to recover. “I mean, I think I can find him myself.” I wink at Helene, trying to make her get the hint. 

She makes a small ‘o’ shape with her mouth. “Well, come in, both of you, and shut the door behind you. Also, you know, Dolokhov, why don't you have a drink with me first? I want to talk to you.”

“Lovely.”

She pulls me into a corner as Anna walks away. “I'm not going to ask why you came here with Anna Mikhailovna, but if it's what I think it is, I hardly think you can blame Anatole.”

“I'm not blaming Anatole for anything. I don't know what you're talking about. Also, there's nothing between me and Anna Mikhailovna. I barely know her. Besides, I like your brother, and you know that.” The last line is a whisper. 

“Dolokhov-”

“Goodbye, Helene.”

She grabs my shoulder. “Dolokhov, you can't leave. You have to see Anatole first.”

“I don't want to see Anatole,” I tell her. 

“It will be short. You can leave after. Do you want him to know you're depressed? He'll figure out your… secret.”

“Fine. 1 minute at most.”

“Dolokhov, that's slightly unreasonable. What type of person do you think he is?”

“The type that… the type that I'll suffer forever because of... because he'll never…”

“Dolokhov. You can do it.”

“Fine. I can do it by myself.” I walk briskly away. I don't really try to find Anatole. I just walk around aimlessly until someone taps my shoulder. I turn to see a small, dark skinned girl. She's beautiful, just as much so as Helene. She's wearing a short, strapless, white dress with a flower in her hair. 

“Fyodor Ivanovich. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“...and you are…?”

“Oh my god. I'm so sorry! My name is Natalya Rostova, but you must call me Natasha,” she says politely. 

Oh god. Natasha Rostova. My worst enemy. Okay, not my worst enemy, but… I hate to admit it but I'm jealous. Those looks, that smile… no wonder Anatole likes her. How am I supposed to compete with that? “A pleasure,” I say drily, at last.

“Anatole has told me about you. He seems very fond.”

“Not as fond as he is of you.” I try hard to keep calm. “Now, if you'll excuse me-”

“Please, wait. I… I may be young, but I'm not a fool. I know-” her voice drops to a whisper. “I know about your… romantic affection for Anatole.”

“ _ Platonic _ affection,” I falsely correct. 

“I just told you I'm not stupid.”

“Then, maybe you'd understand why I don't want to talk to you.”

“Maybe not, but there's something I have to tell you. I've only told Anatole and Andrey about this. Well, I didn't tell Anatole. He found out on his own. He's quite perceptive, actually. Anyway, I want to trust you with this. Do you promise not to tell anyone?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

“Okay.” She steps a little closer to me so I can hear. “I don't love Anatole.”

“What?”

“He doesn't love me either. The thing is… the reason I broke up with Andrey… I- I'm a lesbian. I like girls. I noticed this 2 weeks ago, and I tried as hard as I could to push it aside, but I couldn't. I still cared for Andrey, I just didn't  _ love _ him. So I told him, and he took it very well, actually. We're still friends, Andrey and I. 

“But, after breaking up with him, I realized that it was stupid of me, because everyone would be suspicious, and that I needed a public excuse for breaking up with Andrey. I don't know how Anatole figured out my situation, but he did, and he approached me about it. He agreed to be my fake boyfriend, because he felt bad for me, and he's a nice person.”

“Is he now?”

She ignores that. “With the next part, I don't want to hurt you with this, I don't know if this is the truth or not, but I think I should give you this word of caution: As I said earlier, Anatole is very perceptive, especially when it comes to other people's romantic feelings.”

“What are you implying?”

“I'll be frank. Anatole probably knows that you like him.”

“What?”

“Again, I don't know how true this is, but if you're wondering why he suddenly went on a mission to get close to you, it might be that. I'm not as perceptive as Anatole. It might be because he likes you, I don't know. But Anatole is known for breaking people's hearts. He might just be trying to lead you on.”

My shoulders stiffen. “You think I don't already know that? I'm not stupid either. I know I don't have a chance. I never have. But I'm scared. I'm scared of having my heart broken. I know I like him, he probably knows I like him, but neither of us are saying anything, because I don't want to be hurt, and he's humoring me.”

“But I wasn't lying when I told you that he talks to me about you. He might be playing dumb because he values your friendship. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to give you false hope, I'm just saying that maybe he really does like you.”

“I don't understand. Are you telling me to fuck off or tell him that I...?”

“It's not my place to tell you what you should do, but I've decided that I rather like you, Fyodor Ivanovich. I would like to propose a friendship between us.” Then, quieter, “We homosexuals should stick together.”

“I'm starting to like you more,” I tell her. “Also, just call me Dolokhov.”

“I'll take that as a ‘yes’, Dolokhov. Shall we find Anatole?”

“Sure. Just one question. How did you figure it out?”

“Figure what out?”

“My… thing.”

“I knew you were close to Anatole. He made that quite clear, so I started watching you. I noticed your lingering glances, how your face always turns red when he touches you. It's kind of cute.”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry! I shouldn't have said that! But, um, Anatole is on the far side of the room, at the bar. He's probably a little drunk by now, but you should talk to him. Alone. You both need that.”

“Natasha! Wait!” She doesn't respond, so I take her advice and squeeze my way to the front of the room. 

Sure enough, Anatole is sitting at the bar. His appearance is slightly disheveled, but he's still the most beautiful person in the room. His shirt is unbuttoned, but the sleeves are still on his arms, so there is a pale strip of his chest exposed, and his face is flushed, most likely from the alcohol. 

He's talking to someone. At a closer glance, I see that it's some girl that I don't know. I can't make out what he's saying to her, but I watch him laugh, kiss her hand, and press his forehead against hers. She blushes, and it makes me feel slightly nauseous. I can't approach him like that. I am about to turn around and leave, but Anatole looks over and sees me. He turns back to the girl, kissing her forehead gently, before sliding off the counter and walking over to me with his usual jaunty step. 

“Fedya!  _ Mon ami _ ! Lovely to see you. I almost…” he links his arms around my neck and pushes forward so his chest is flush against mine. My heart is pounding so hard, it feels like it might break out of my chest, and I really hope that Anatole is too delirious from the alcohol to notice. “I almost thought you weren't going to come.” His face is only two inches away from mine. 

I don't care to tell him that I almost  _ didn't  _ come. Instead, I mumble a short, “Sorry.” 

He slides his hands down to my waist and pushes himself back. “Fedya, drink with me. You're too sober.”

“Anatole, I can't go home drunk.”

“Why not?” Anatole slurs. Then he sighs. “If you really can't, you can stay the night with me. There's room in my bed.” He takes my hand and places it in his chest. 

I jerk away. “Anatole, don't. I want to talk seriously about something. Natasha said-”

“Fedya, don't talk about her right now. I want you. Please.” He cups my cheek in one hand and the other hand rests on my lower back. He's close. Really close. His wide, glittering eyes are so close to mine that I can't see beyond them, and his handsome lips are slightly parted. 

In that moment, I get scared. I'm scared that if he gets to close, I might start to lose control of myself  because of my feelings. I push him away, and he stumbles back a few steps. “Fedya?”

“Anatole you're far too drunk to carry a civilized conversation.”

“I don't care.”

“I can't talk to you when you're like this. I'll just leave then.”

“No!” He grabs my hands. “Don't go. I-”

“Anatole.” It's not me who says it. It's Helene. She has her arms around Anatole’s waist, holding him back. She looks at me apologetically. “I'm sorry you had to see him like this. He has a pretty low alcohol tolerance. It makes him become even more flirtatious, if that's possible.”

“Sister, dearest,” Anatole says simply. “What are you doing? I can handle myself.”

“No, you can't. You were obviously making Dolokhov uncomfortable.”

“But he-”

“Quiet, dear brother, you've had enough seducing everyone in the room. Listen to me.” She let's go of her hold on him and turns his shoulders to face hers. “I want you to leave Fedya alone. It's late and he should probably go. Then, I want you to drink a glass of water, take two Advil pills to lessen the headache you will awake to in the morning, shower, change your clothes, and go to sleep. Okay?”

Anatole nods and heads off without a word. 

Helene looks at me. “In case you have a curfew, it's 2:00 AM. 

My eyes widen in horror. “Have you seen Anna Mikhailovna?”

“I'm not going to ask why you're leaving with her, but last time I saw, she was in the back sitting with Sonya.”

“Thanks!” I walk quickly to the back, find Anna, and tap her shoulder. 

“Dolokhov. What's up?”

“It's 2 AM,” I tell her. 

“Oh, fuck. We have to go. My mom will be so pissed. Bye, Sonya. See you on Monday.”

She stands up quickly and grabs my hand, dragging me out the front door and to her car. “I'm so stupid.”


	13. Chapter 13

When Anna pulls into the garage, Mrs. Drubetskoy is standing there waiting for us. I get out first, my head bowed. Anna follows, her feet dragging on the floor. 

“Where have you two been? Fedya, I can cut you a little bit of slack because you don't really know the rules, but Anna, you know better. Come on.”

“We were at a friend's house. We didn't realize it was so late. It wasn't Dolokhov’s fault either. He was the one who eventually reminded me that we had to go.”

“Lisa is sleeping, but we'll talk about this tomorrow, young lady. Fedya, you're fine. I'll let you off the hook just this once. And, next time, set an alarm for what time you have to leave.”

I trudge off to my room, feeling a little guilty about leaving Anna with all the blame. I also hope Anatole is okay. He was  _ really _ drunk. That'd be nasty to wake up from. I'll text him tomorrow, maybe. My phone beeps. 

Vaska:  _ omg Fedya what the heck????!! _

Fedya:  _ what? _

Vaska:  _ so idk how she got my phone number, but Helene texted me,,,, _

Vaska:  _ and she sent me this: _

Vaska:  _ [Attatchment: 1 image] _

 

I look at the picture. It's from earlier tonight. Of me. And Anatole. 

Fedya:  _ he was very drunk _

Fedya:  _ it wasn't anything  _

Vaska:  _ your faces are literally two inches apart _

Fedya:  _ nothing happened  _

Vaska:  _ it should have _

Vaska:  _ also u better not be lying _

 

I waste no time texting Helene right after.  

Fedya:  _ what the fuck Helene???? _

Fedya:  _ delete that picture right now _

Helene:  _? _

Helene:  _ what picture? _

Fedya:  _ the one you sent Denisov  _

Fedya:  _ of me and Anatole  _

Helene:  _ oh, that _

Helene:  _ there might have been more than one picture of you and Anatole  _

Fedya:  _ WHAT THE FUCK?! _

Helene:  _ [Attatchment: 25 images] _

Fedya:  _ ALL OF THEM _

Fedya:  _ DELETE ALL OF THEM _

Helene:  _ you're no fun _

Helene:  _ but fine I'll delete them _

Helene:  _ btw how was it seeing him drunk and flirting with everyone? Still like him? _

Fedya:  _ shut up _

Fedya:  _ how did u get denisov’s number anyway? _

Helene:  _ I asked Natasha _

Helene:  _ speaking of, saw u talking to Natasha what was that about? Telling her to fuck off cuz Anatole is yours? _

Fedya:  _ no it was nothing _

Fedya: _and_ _Anatole’s not mine_

Fedya:  _ goodnight _

 

I wake up in the morning to my phone ringing. I don't bother to look at the caller ID. It's probably Denisov. I answer and hold the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?” I say. 

“Fedya?” It's Anatole. Oh  _ shit _ , it's  _ Anatole _ . 

“Hey, Anatole. What's up?”

“Well, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean anything. I hope we're still friends…”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” He sounds relieved. “Oh, fuck. My headache is terrible.”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

“No,” he whines. “I tried, but I had too much adrenaline…”

“Sorry. You'll be okay. I should go.”

“Okay. Bye. Love you.”

I sigh as the call ends. That wasn't too hard. 

There's a knock at my bedroom door. “Dolokhov?” It's Anna. “Are you awake? Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say even though I'm still in bed and looking at my phone. 

She opens the door. “You know, it's like 12:45. You should get up. Also, I just finished talking with my mom. She let you off so easy. You don't even have a punishment. I'm grounded for 2 weeks. That's  _ forever _ . This is so unfair.”

“Sorry,” I mutter. “But you were the one who dragged me there anyway.”

“Sure, but you had fun, didn't you? Anatole seemed happy to see you.”

“Did he, now? To me, he seemed like he needed to sleep himself sober from whatever he was drinking.”

“Whatever. Don't be thankful to me. Fine.”

“That's not what I-”

“He cares about you.”

“What?”

“Anatole. I don't know when you two became such good friends, but I've known the Kuragins forever. Anatole is a lot more fragile than he seems. Take care of him.”

“I don't think I'm the best person for that.”

“Anatole has had a lot of hardships. Because he's handsome, because he's flirtatious, people hate on him for that. I was talking to Helene last night. Anatole trusts you more than anyone. Just don't lie to him. Okay?” She winks. 

“What was that?”

“What?” She's playing dumb, but a smile hints at the corner of her lips. 

“What was that wink?”

“Oh, nothing…”

“ _ Anna Mikhailovna Drubetskoy _ .”

“Fine,” she sighs. “Helene told me that you like Anatole. That you  _ like _ like Anatole.” She smirks. “Dolokhov and Anatole, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-”

“Shut up!”

“So you've liked Anatole since 2nd grade? I can't believe I didn't notice-”

“It's not your business! Leave me alone!”

“Oh! And you're jealous of Natasha…”

“No, I'm not! You don't know anything about me!”

“Ha ha! You're embarrassed!”

“I'm going to kill Helene, and I'm going to kill you and Natasha and everyone else who knows and it will all be in the past!”

I call Helene while Anna is still there because my fingers are shaking too hard for me to be able to text properly. 

“Hello, Dolokhov,” Helene says, feigning innocence. “What's up with you?”

“Why the fuck did you tell Anna Mikhailovna about Anatole?”

“Why not? You live with her.”

“You've caused nothing but trouble for me in the past 12 hours. Telling my secrets to everyone, taking embarrassing pictures and sending them to my friends-”

“I only told one person!”

“Yeah, maybe, but that  _ one person  _ you told is going to tell the entire fucking school and it will be two more years of absolute fucking misery because everyone will fucking tease me that I have some stupid fucking childish crush on stupid fucking Anatole Kuragin.” I don't wait for her to respond. “Good day.” I hang up. 

Anna looks at me guiltily. “I'm sorry, Dolokhov. I promise I won't tell-”

“And what is a promise from you worth? Nothing.”

Mrs. Drubetskoy bursts into the room just then. “Fedya! Why do I hear you swearing super loudly? Please take it outside. And Anna! What did you do to make him that mad? Quiet down both of you. Don't set a bad example for Lisa.” 

After she leaves, Lisa pops her head into the doorway. “Who's ‘Anatole’?”

I groan, lying back down on the bed. “No one,” I lie. 

“I was listening to your whole conversation through the door.”

“Good for you.”

“Dolokhov and Anatole sitting in a tree, K-I-S-”

“Okay! I get it! You were listening. That's cool. Anatole is a random person from our school who I like  _ platonically  _ as a  _ friend _ and  _ only _ as a friend. Isn't that right, Anna?” I turn to her and mouth ‘ _ you said you wouldn't tell anyone _ ’.

“That's right,” she sighs. “They are just very… unlikely friends, so I like to tease them.”

“What was that word Fedya kept using? It started with an ‘f’, I think…”

“It's a bad word that you shouldn't say because Dolokhov has a dirty mouth,” Anna says. 

I roll my eyes. “Yeah. I suck. Don't be like me.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time since I last updated, so I have two new chapters today. I had a little trouble writing this chapter, so i hope it's okay.

“Fedya?” Anatole says when I'm sitting with him on my work break after school the next day. 

“What's up?”

“I've been wanting to ask you about something for a while. It's been making me feel guilty.”

“I- What- what is it?”

“Do you… like Natalie?”

I almost choke on nothing. “What?”

He lowers his head. “So you do. Look, if I had known, I never would have- Fedya, I'm sorry. Are you mad at me?”

“Woah. Back up. I don't have a crush on Natasha. Why do you think that?”

“Well, you seemed really upset when I told you we were together, and you've never really had a problem with anything I do before.”

“I wasn't upset,” I lie. 

“But you skipped work.”

“I started feeling really sick. But last night I was talking to Natasha. She told me that… the thing. You know what I'm talking about.”

“What? She did? But she didn't want anyone to know. Why did she tell you of all people? No offense, Fedya.”

“Um…” oh, fuck. I should have planned for this. “She said since I was really close to you I deserve to know.” It's almost the truth. 

Anatole hums, taking the straw of his drink between his lips and taking a sip. “I suppose I did talk about you to her a lot.” He pushes his half-finished ice coffee towards me. “Want the rest?”

I shake my head. “My break is about to be over. I should go back.”

“Aw. But, Fedya… this is the only time I have to talk to you with just us. You're always with people.”

“Oh,  _ I'm  _ always with people, am I? Says the guy who spends the entire school day trying to seduce people.”

“Fedya-”

“Also, sorry, back to the subject of Natasha, do  _ you  _ like her?”

“She told you the story, Fedya.”

“Yeah, she did, but, from what I heard, you seemed pretty willing.”

“You know we don't like each other. I was willing because… I don't know. I told you. I felt bad.”

“Whatever. I'm just saying that fake dating someone you like who doesn't like you is a bad idea.”

“Fedya, why are you so convinced that I like her? I'm telling you I don't! What? Are you jealous of her?”

“No!”

“Fine! It's because… I understand where she's coming from. I have things that I don't want to tell people because I'm too ashamed of them. I don't think she should be so scared of homosexuality, but I know how hard it is to have to keep a reputation all the time! You wouldn't understand, Fedya.”

“Anatole…”

“What?” he snaps at me. 

“I- I'm sorry. I know you don't like Natasha like that. I shouldn't have pushed you so far.”

“It's okay. I forgive you. But let's not talk about this again.” He kisses me, uncomfortably close to the corner of my mouth. His lips are especially soft. 

“You and Helene both always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Kiss people on the cheek.”

“You don't like it? Or would you rather on your mouth?”

“That's not what I- I was just noticing.”

“FEDYA!” Yakov.

“I have to go,” I tell Anatole. 

“Bye. I should go too. See you tomorrow.”

When I walk back around to the counter, Makarin is staring at me. “Fedya, how come Anatole never says ‘hi’ to me anymore? Now, he only comes here to see you.”

“Uh… sorry?”

“No, don't be sorry. You make him happy. That's good.”

“Fedya, the cash register is waiting,” Yakov says. 

I sigh and take my spot at the register. 

“Hi, Dolokhov.”

“Hi, Sonya. The regular?”

“Yeah.”

“Say ‘hi’ to the siblings for me. Okay?” I say, drawing the usual smiley face next to her name on the cup. 

“Sure. So you're friends with Natasha now?”

“We're friend _ ly _ .”

“Okay. See you later.”

“See you.”

 

The next day, driving to school, Mrs. Drubetskoy tells us, “Lisa has an overnight field trip with her school, so I won't be home. The spare key is under the doormat, or you can sleep over with a friend, even though you're grounded, Anna.”

Anna pumps a fist. “Yes!”

I sigh. I'll just use the spare key. I always feel bad sleeping over, especially on short notice. Probably because I used to stay at Denisov’s so much. 

 

In chemistry, I don't take notes. At least, not real ones. I pretend to be writing, but I'm actually staring at the back of Anatole’s head, thinking about how his hair looks especially nice today and how the sleeves of his white, button-up shirt are rolled to his elbows, exposing his pale forearms. Why does he always wear shirts with buttons? His handsome head is resting on his hand. He looks very bored. 

I watch him take out his phone and start using it under his desk. Because Anatole sits in the second row, Marya Dmitryevna notices this and calls him out. “Mr. Kuragin. No phones during class. You know that. What are you doing?”

Anatole quickly exits out of whatever he was doing and turns the phone off, slipping it back into his pocket. “Nothing.”

“ _ Anatole Vasilyevich Kuragin _ .” She gives him that look that every student is deathly afraid of. 

“I was looking up if chemistry is supposed to be this boring,” Anatole smirks mischievously. 

“Mr. Kuragin, outside. Now. I also want to talk to you after class.”

Anatole makes a quiet ‘hmph’ noise, stands up, turns on his heel, and stalks out of the room without a word, with his shoulders back and his head held high. 

“I hate him,” Nikolai murmurs to himself from his seat next to me. 

I turn to look at him for a moment, but quickly look back away, pretending I didn't hear. Nikolai hates Anatole? Why? This must be what Anna was talking about. I remember her words.  _ ‘Because he's handsome, he's flirtatious, people hate him for that.’  _

 

After class is over, Nikolay grabs my arm. “Dolokhov, are you lying to me?”

“What?” I say. I have no idea what he's talking about. 

“About Anatole… you said that you guys are just friends, that you got over your thing for him, but I saw you two at the party last Saturday. I was only there because my sister dragged me, but you…”

“He was drunk,” I say quickly. “Besides, Anatole is Anatole. He's always flirting with people. There's nothing between us.”

Nikolai nods. “If you were a thing, I wouldn't judge you. I hope you know that.” He stands up and walks out. 

As I walk out after, I see Anatole leaning against the wall. “Hey, Fedya. Will you be at work today?”

“Yeah.” 

“See you then. I have to talk to Marya Dmitryevna right now.” He presses his lips to the corner of my mouth. “Because you're not satisfied with it on your cheek.”

“What? That's not what I-”

“Relax, Fedya. I'm obviously joking.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm sorry I haven't updated in a really long time because I've been super stressed with school and finals, and this is really short, but I'm going to try to post more frequently now that I'm on break. :)

After school, work is relatively uneventful until Sonya walks in. Nobody's in line, so we have a short conversation. 

“Hi, Dolokhov.”

“Hi, Sonya. The usual?”

“Yes, but Anna Mikhailovna is over, so I need to get stuff for her and Natasha. Nikolay didn't want anything.”

“What else?”

“Okay. I'm trying to remember… Natasha wanted a small hot chocolate, and Anna wanted a medium black coffee.”

I nod. I draw a smiley face next to Sonya’s name, like always, and, because I'm a nice friend, I draw a flower on Natasha’s cup. On Anna’s, I write a message:

 

one word and I'll kill you

(I'm not kidding)

-F.D.

 

Yakov looks at me weirdly when he sees it, but he doesn't question. 

 

About an hour later, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I wait until there's no one in line before I look at it. It's from Anna. 

Anna:  _ [Attatchment: 1 image] _

 

It's a picture of what wrote on her coffee cup. A message accompanies it. 

Anna:  _ omfg _

Anna:  _ was this u?? _

Anna:  _ how? _

Fedya:  _ I work here dumbass _

Anna:  _ so Sonya gets a smiley face, Natasha gets a flower, and I get a death threat? U suck _

Fedya:  _ yeah. I know I suck. U better get used to it _

Anna:  _ don't worry I didn't tell anyone but Natasha already seems to know… _

Fedya:  _ yeah Natasha knows but you can't let her tell either or else _

Fedya:  _ gtg bye _

 

I put the phone down just as Anatole walks in. 

“Hi, Fedya,” he says, leaning over the counter to get closer to me. “How's it going?”

“Fine. Are you going to order something?”

“I don't know yet. When is your break?”

“In a half an hour.”

He frowns. 

“Anatole!” It's Makarin. 

“Makarin! It's so good to see you!” Anatole says. “Come here so I can kiss you.” He leans over the counter and kisses Makarin on each cheek. “I never see you because you're always in the back, leaving Fedya and Yakov to to all the work. Oh, hi, Yakov, by the way.”

“Hi, Anatole,” Yakov says flatly. 

Anatole turns back to me. “So your break is in half an hour, right?”

“Well, not exactly. I already had my break. My shift is over in half an hour.”

He hums before breaking into a cheerful smile. “You should come to my house then. After, of course. But you're free, right? Anna is at the Rostov’s, and I've known Anna long enough to know that means her mom isn't home. Oh! You could sleep over! I'll ask my mom.”

“Anatole, wait-” I starts, but he's already gone to sit at a table and he's texting somebody. 

So, I've liked Anatole forever. That's a fact, but I don't know if I want to go to his  _ house _ . Besides, Hippolyte will be there. I don't want to see him. But Anatole…

 

30 minutes later, as soon as I step into the main shop area, Anatole comes up and grabs my hand. “Fedya! My parents said it's okay so you can come with me. Hippolyte won't be thrilled, but that just makes it more fun.”

“Anatole-”

He puts a finger to my lips. “Shh, Fedya. Everything will work out.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> also. Warning: this chapter contains self harm

When we arrive at the Kuragin's, Anatole’s mother is waiting just inside the front door. She doesn't waste any time pulling Anatole into a tight embrace. 

“Tolya! You're here. It's been awhile since you texted, so I was starting to worry.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Well? Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Anatole nods, pulling himself away from her, gently. “Mom, this is Fedya Dolokhov. Fedya, this is my mom.”

She gives me a hug. “It's nice to meet you. Tolya has told me about you.”

“Hi,” I say awkwardly. 

“Mother, you're making him uncomfortable.”

She releases me. “Oh, I'm so sorry. I hope Tolya has treated you well.” Then she turns to Anatole. “Will the two of you be in your room?”

Anatole nods. “Come on, Fedya.” He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs and into a bedroom. It's plain and simple. White walls, white sheets, everything is white. Anatole sits down on the bed and motions for me to sit beside him. 

I do. “So… what exactly are we going to do?”

Anatole shrugs, smiling. “I don't know.” He puts his hands flat against my chest and leans forward. “What do you want to do?” He leans a little further towards me, and it almost seems like he's about to kiss my lips when the door opens. 

“Anatole-” It's Helene. She stops talking, takes a few seconds to appraise the situation before starting to close the door again with a simple, “Hi, Dolokhov.”

Anatole laughs. “I love Helene.”

“Me too,” I say, without thinking. 

Anatole is silent. He slowly pulls himself away from me. He almost looks disappointed about something. 

“Anatole?” I whisper. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope. Nothing. I’ve never been better.” It’s a lie. “Fedya, can you go downstairs and get me a glass of water and some Advil? I have a bit of a headache.”

“Um… sure.” I stand slowly and he watches me. I walk out the door, shutting it behind me, and take a couple of steps before realizing I have no Idea where to find those things, so I go back and open the door to Anatole’s room. 

I freeze in horror. The first thing I see is the blood, then the skin of Anatole’s arm, then the razor blade in his hand. He tries to hide it, but it’s too late. “Anatole!” I cross to him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing to yourself?”

His eyes are wide and he looks scared. “Fedya. Why are you back already-?’

“ _ Anatole _ .”

“What?”

“Give me your hand. Please.”

He does. He’s not holding the blade anymore, so I give him a look. He avoids my eyes.

“Anatole, give me the razor blade.”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Give it to me, then let me treat the cut.

Still avoiding eye contact, he reaches behind him and pulls out the blade, gently pressing it into my hand. “Sorry, Fedya.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do you have a first aid kit?”

 

Once I’ve disinfected and bandaged the cut, I look expectantly at Anatole. “You’re not going to tell me why you cut yourself?”

“You wouldn't understand, Fedya.”

I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s always had some degree of dignity, pride, of confidence, even when Hippolyte was bullying him, but now, it’s all gone. “Try me,” I say to him.

“No. It’s not your business, Fedya. I’ve just had a hard week, and this makes it feel better.”

“That doesn’t mean that you should do it. You could have come to me. You know I’d do anything to help you, right?” I smile a little weakly at him. “Is there anything I can do?”

Anatole bites his lip before meeting me eyes tentatively. He forces a small smile. “...Hold me? Just for a bit?”

My blood rushes to my cheeks, but, without another word, I gingerly take his slender figure  into my arms. He buries his face in my shoulder, making my blush deepen.

“Fedya,” he murmurs against me.

“Anatole,” I say back, holding him a little tighter.

He wraps his arms around my waist. “Fedya, I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re always there. I l-” he stops suddenly. “You- You’re a good friend.”

I just hum a little, acknowledging that I heard him. I run my fingers through his hair, and it’s probably a bit too much, because he looks up at me, cheeks flushed.

“Fedya? Are you okay?” He removes one hand from my waist and reaches up to touch my face. “You’re warm. Are you getting sick?”

“I, uh… don’t think so…”

“Mm… good,” he says, lying down and taking me with him. “This is comforting. With you… I feel… better.”

“So, don’t cut yourself anymore, okay?”

“It’s not that easy, Fedya.” I can feel him starting to cry as he squeezes me tighter. His tears seep through the thin fabric of my shirt, and his body is racked with sobs. “When you cut too many times, it becomes an addiction.”

“Oh, God, Anatole, how long have you been doing this?”

“I- ...third grade.”

“Oh my god. Anatole.  _ Anatole. _ ”

He hums against my shoulder. “You’re warm, Fedya.”

“Oh.”

“Stay with me.”

“I will.”

“Stay with me forever. Don’t leave me.”

“I wish I could.”

“No you don’t.”

“What?”

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me. Is it because I made you punch Hippolyte? Because of what happened at the party? I was drunk. I didn’t know that I was doing.”

“It’s not either of those things. It’s just…”

“What?”

“It’s nothing you ever did. I’ll tell you later.”

“Fedya?”

“Did you still want me to get you Advil? Your cut must hurt.”

He pulls away from me. “Yeah, sure. Thanks. Downstairs, second door to the right. Or you can just ask my mom.”

I walk out slowly, scared that he’ll try to cut again, so I hurry. When I come back up, I hear him talking to Helene.

“I don’t get it,” Anatole says.

“Anatole, practically half the girls at school have a thing for you, and the other half all like Andrey or Dolokhov. You can easily win over one person,” Helene says. What is she talking about.

“No, I can’t!” Anatole whines.  “I’m trying! I’ve tried everything, touching, flirting, but nothing works. I don’t get it. What am I doing wrong?”

I understand the situation painfully well. So Anatole  _ does _ like someone, and he lied to me, probably because he knows I have a thing for him and he doesn’t want to hurt me. I feel guilty eavesdropping so I open the door.

Anatole jolts. “Oh, it’s you Fedya. You’re back fast. Did you find it?”

“Yeah.” I hand him the pills and a glass of water. I look at Helene. “Hi, Helene.”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Not much. We were just chilling.”

“Why did you bring my brother pain-killers?”

From behind Helene, Anatole frantically draws a line across his throat, mouthing, ‘Don’t tell her’.

“He had a headache,” I lie.

She hums. “I hope you feel better, Anatole. I should do my homework. You shouldn’t forget about yours either.”

“I won’t,” Anatole promises. 

Helene gets up and leaves without another word.

I sit down next to Anatole as he takes 2 pills with the water. “So…” I say. “Who were you talking about?”

“What?”

“With Helene.”

I’m surprised to see him actually blush. “You- You heard that, Fedya?”

“I didn’t mean to. I was just there. You’re not going to tell me who you’re trying to seduce now?”

“No. It’s not your business.” He won’t look at me.

“Anatole, it’s not a big deal.” Then I try to guilt him. “I thought we were friends.”

“Fedya, don’t look at me like that.”

I let it go. “Whatever,” I sigh.

“What time is it?”

I check on my phone. “7:45. Why?”

“I was wondering when my dad will get home. He always has work until late.”

“What does he do?”

“He owns a financial company, but he doesn’t act like it. He acts like a 10 year old most of the time. Also, he obviously favors Helene. He thinks Hippolyte and I are both idiots. I mean, Hippolyte  _ is _ , but-”

“And you think  _ you don’t _ act 10 years old? Besides, he’s right. You and Hippolyte are  _ both  _ idiots.”

“Fedya, that’s mean! I thought we were friends.”

“Come on, Anatole.”

“Maybe I am, but you’re not supposed to say that to my face.” He turns away from me, haughtily lifting his chin. “Fyodor.”

I reel back at the sound of my first name coming from Anatole’s lips, even though it doesn’t sound that bad when he says it. “Don’t call me that.”

“No. Not until you take back calling me childish and an idiot, Fyodor.”

“If that’s how it is… Fine. Be that way, Tolya.”

“W- What?” he sputters. “Fedya, only my mom calls me that.”

I smirk at him. “I know.”

“Hmph.”

I sigh. “Anatole…” I touch a hand to his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not going to forgive you,” he says, but he lets my hand stay where it is. I’m probably imagining it, but it almost looks like he’s blushing.

“You will.”

He purses his lips, “You’re right. I can’t deny you anything, Fedya. You’re so cute.”

It feels like all the blood in my body rushes to my cheeks and my heart starts to pound. Luckily, it doesn’t seem like he notices. “So, um, what time  _ is _ your dad getting home?”

“8:00, so any minute now.”

Just then, the door opens. “Anatole~! How have you been? How was school? Did you miss me?”

“Speak of the devil, Anatole mutters. Then, louder, “Hi, Dad. Fine, fine, and not really.”

“You think you’re too cool for me. Oh. Who’s your friend?”

“That’s Fedya. Dolokhov.”

“Hi,” I say.

He grabs my hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Anatole’s father. Vasily Kuragin. I feel like I’ve heard the name Dolokhov before. Oh, yes! Is your father Ivan? We were roommates in College. I heard he went a little crazy after his wife died. Beat his own son- oh. Erm. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

I shake my head, ignoring the horrified way Anatole is staring at me. “It doesn’t matter. He’s dead now, anyway.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.”

“Well, I’ll be downstairs. I’ll excuse you from dinner if you want to stay up here.”

“Thanks,” says Anatole.

“But you have to give me a hug first.”

Anatole sighs. “Fine.” He does as instructed. As he pulls away, someone else walks through the doorway. “Oh, brother, dearest how are you doing on this fine evening?”

Oh, fuck. Hippolyte.

Anatole continues, “How many times do I have to tell you that my clothes are too small for you-”

“What is  _ he _ doing here?” Hippolyte is pointing at me.

“Now, now, brother dear. Pointing is rude. Fedya is my friend. It’s not like the friends you’ve had over don’t hate me, even though they're probably just jealous-”

“None of my friends have punched you in the face! Father, get him out of here, he’s evil-!”

“Hippolyte,” Mr. Kuragin says firmly. “I must agree with Anatole. You are being quite rude. I want you to apologize, then come downstairs for dinner.”

Hippolyte scoffs. “As if I’d ever apologize to him.”

Anatole stomps over and grabs Hippolyte by the ear. “He’s my friend, Hippolyte. I don’t care if you don’t like him.” Then he leans down and whispers something to him. Then, he says, “Get out of my room, now.”

“Gladly. And, Anatole, don’t you dare say anything.” Hippolyte storms out.

Mr. Kuragin turns to me. “Sorry about him. Hippolyte has some anger management issues on top of not getting along with Anatole very well.”

“No, I deserve it.”

“Well, I should take my leave.”

“Bye.”

I look at Anatole, who sits back down beside me. “Don’t you dare say anything about what?”

Anatole smiles a base and cringing smile. “Because I hate him, I’ll tell you. Hippolyte… He has a crush on Nikolay, but he’s being angsty about it because Nikolay likes you.”

I just look at him. “Anatole, that’s not even funny.”

“No, Fedya, I swear it’s true!”

“I don’t want people to like me, because I hate not being able to return their feelings. I- I know what unrequited love feels like.” I bite my lip. “And that’s why I always feel bad for Nikolay whenever I talk to him, and your brother- I just- It makes me feel like a terrible person.”

I feel Anatole’s hand on my back. “I’m sorry Fedya. You shouldn’t have to- You deserve better.”

“Thanks.”

“Do you mind telling me who you like?”

“Yes, actually, I do mind.”

“Mean. Friends don’t keep secrets. Does Denisov know?”

“Yes, he does, but that’s beside the point. You wouldn’t tell me who you like, so I don’t tell you who I like. I know who Vaska likes, he knows who I like. Simple.”

“Fedya, you’re so difficult.”

“Oh,  _ I’m  _ difficult. Sure.”

“Fedya! I bet you’ve told all your other friends. How many people know?”

Denisov, Mary, Natasha, Helene, Anna. I guess Lisa counts too... “Six.”

“Six? Fedya, that’s unfair.”

“How many people know yours?”

“Two, because it’s my brother and sister.”

“Look, I just don’t want to talk about it because it’s painful. You wouldn’t understand. Every single girl in the grade likes you.”

“Alright. I won’t ask anymore, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here, okay?”

I nod. “I’m here for you too.”

“I’m glad. Can I talk to you about something, Fedya?”

“Sure.”

“I just want to tell you how much I- How grateful I am to have you here, always. See, Helene and I have never had a ton of friends because… because both of us are often the focus of people’s romantic interests, and other people get jealous. That’s why Helene and I have always been together. That’s why she knows practically everything about me, and I her. I’m glad that I met you.”

“What’s wrong with you. You’re acting like you’re about to die.”

“I never know when I’m going to die.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Are you  _ worried  _ about me, Fedya?”

“A little.”

He hums, a smile touching his lips. “We should do homework.”

“Okay.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. I said like 2 chapters ago that I was going to post more, but it took me a long time since I last updated to write this (and it's shorter too, i'm sorry) anyway, here it is

By the time we’re done with homework, it’s past midnight, so Anatole suggests that we go to sleep. 

“Sure,” I say. “I’ll just… sleep on the floor, I guess.”

I start to stand up, but Anatole grabs my shirt. “No, you don’t have to. We can just share the bed. It’s big enough.”

“Anatole, no.”

“Fedya! I’m not asking you to have sex or anything. I’m just saying that you don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

I can feel my face flushing. “I never thought that was what you were saying. It’s just awkward.”

His expression suddenly becomes slightly sullen and pleading. “Fedya, I- I just need someone close to me right now.”

I force a small smile. “Why can’t I ever say ‘no’ to you?”

“Because we’re friends.”

I frown.

“But I take that as a yes.” He reaches up, taking my shoulders, and pulling me to lie down with him on the bed. Neither of us bothers to change or get under the sheets. We simply fall asleep just as we are. I’m honestly too tired and delirious to fully comprehend how close he is to me.

 

When I first wake up, I’m confused as to why my hands are tangled in soft, platinum-blonde hair, and why a thin, pale boy is resting his head on my chest. Then I remember last night and I realize that the boy next to me is Anatole Kuragin, and, shit, I am totally fucked.

He shifts in his sleep, and one of his legs is in between mine and I can feel my pants start to get tighter around my crotch. I, as quickly as I can without waking him up, detangle myself from him, stand up, and sit down in a chair across the room, trying to calm myself. I check the time on the clock on his dresser and it’s 6:59. His alarm will go off in one minute.

When it does, Anatole takes about ten minutes to sit up. “What?” he murmurs groggily. “Fedya?” Then, “Oh, fuck, I slept with my contacts in.”

“You wear contacts?” I ask.

“Yeah. I hate them, but I look stupid in glasses. You’ll see. I’m going to wear them today so my eyes don’t get irritated,” he says, taking out his contacts as he talks. “Fedya? Can you hand me the green box on my dresser? And turn the alarm off.”

I do, and he takes the box, fumbling a bit, probably because he can’t see very well. He takes out the glasses and puts them on. He sighs. “See? I look stupid.”

“No, you don’t,” I say. If I’m being completely honest with myself, he looks really hot. Also, how the hell does his hair still look perfect when he slept on it? “You’re beautiful,” I say softly, and I don’t even realize I said it out loud at first, but, when I do, my cheeks practically glow with heat.

He smiles too brightly for seven in the morning as he stands up and walks over to me. “Thanks, Fedya,” he says, pecking my forehead. Then, he moves past me to the dresser. “Fedya, do you need to borrow clothes?”

I shake my head. I would borrow clothes from anyone else, but not Anatole. I’ll just keep my jacket zipped up so that no one will be able to tell that I’m wearing the same shirt as I was yesterday.

“Fedya, turn around,” he tells me.

“What?”

“Turn around. Well, unless you want to watch me change.” A smirk plays across his lips.

My face turns bright red and I turn away from him. “Um… sorry..”

“It’s okay.” I hear the rustling up fabric and a couple of indiscernible noises from Anatole before he says, “Okay, you can look again.”

I turn back around, murmuring a slight ‘okay’, my face still flushed.

“Fedya, have you ever had a romantic relationship?” He asks out of the blue.

“No. Why?”

“I just need some… advice. Love advice.”

I hum. “Okay. I don’t know much about love, but if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

“I- I feel like I’m holding Natalie back. I feel like she should come out so she’ll see that she’s not the only LGBTQ+ person in the school. I think maybe I should break it off with her. But I also don’t want to hurt her.”

“Is there a specific person that she likes?”

“Yes! And that person likes her too! It’s just that she’s still not super open about her sexuality, and I don’t want to push her into anything uncomfortable. I don’t know what I should do.”

“I really don’t know, Anatole. Just talk it over with her.”

“Okay. On another note, do you want breakfast?”

“I’m… not hungry. I’ll wait for you.”

“No. I’m not hungry either. Maybe we should start walking. I don’t have a fucking driver’s license yet.”

“Okay.”

“I hate these glasses. They’re so uncomfortable.”

“They can’t be more uncomfortable than contacts. How can you  _ touch your eye _ every day? I don’t get it.”

“You get used to it,” he smiles, opening the door and walking out. I follow behind him.

Anatole’s mom sees us as we walk down the stairs. “Tolya! Are you going to skip breakfast again?”

Anatole smiles a little guiltily. “Uh… yeah. See you later, mom.” He walks other and kisses her on each cheek, and she smiles tenderly at him.

“Bye, Tolya.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a chapter

So, i know i really haven’t updated in a while. I try do it once a month but then my computer decided this was a good time to download a virus so I lost the part of the chapter I was working on, my notes, everything. God, I should probably get google docs. Anyway, the point is, I’ve finally dealt with all that now, and I should be able to get the next chapter up either this week or next week. Thanks for understanding, y’all.  
-koschei


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry, this took a bit longer than I expected, but hopefully, I'll be able to update more regularly again now. Thank you all for understanding. Love ya!

As Anatole and I walk through the gate and enter the school, we get stopped by a girl. She looks like a freshman. She looks at Anatole dreamily. “Um… Anatole…”

I cross my arms and give her a menacing look.

Anatole notices me and raises a hand to my face. “Fedya, don’t do that.”

I drop my arms, but the glare stays.

Anatole obviously deems it ‘good enough’ because he turns back to the girl. “Is there something I can help you with, mademoiselle?” He takes her hand and brings it to his lips.

She blushes and pushes a letter into his hand. “I know you have Natalya Rostova as your girlfriend, and I’m not saying you have to return my feelings, but please read this letter I wrote. I put a lot of effort and feeling into it. Thanks!” Then, she scurries away as fast as she can.

I look at Anatole who has an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you going to read it?” I ask, motioning to the letter in his hand.

He shrugs. “Of course. It can’t hurt.”

I don’t know what I’m thinking but I reach forward and snatch the letter from his hand and open it.

“Fedya, give that back!”

I move away from him and start to read it aloud.  “‘My dearest, Anatole,’ oh, there’s a comma after dearest by the way. ‘I’m sure that you have most likely already guessed why I wrote this. The truth is that-’” I falter a bit reading the next line. “‘The truth is that I love you very, very much. ‘I often dream of you and glittering eyes and your tender smile, and I often imagine how it would feel to k-’”  _ to kiss you, to feel you, to have you with me, just as you with Dolokhov. I’ve noticed the way you two look at each other. The lingering touches, and so on. You seem much closer to him than you do Natalya _ … I don’t read it aloud, only in my head. It’s so… I can’t even read it anymore, so I close my eyes. So little that girl knows, so little of our relationship. One thing I know for certain is that I absolutely cannot let Anatole see this.

Anatole looks confused. “Fedya, are you okay? Why did you stop?”

My face flushes as I crumple up the paper and throw it in the nearest garbage can.  “This is so stupid.”

“Fedya!” Anatole calls, his eyes wide. “What’s wrong with you today? You’ve been a little out of it since you woke up. Is it something I did?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

“What did the letter say to make you so upset?”

“Nothing. None of your business.”

“Actually, Fedya, it’s  _ all  _ of my business. You seem to be forgetting that it was addressed to  _ me _ , not you, so, technically, it’s none of  _ your _ business. Now, what did it say?”

“It doesn’t matter! Dig it out of the trash if you care so much.” I start to walk away, leaving him behind.

“Fedya…” his voice is choked.

I turn around and notice that he’s crying. “Anatole? Are you alright?”

“I just don’t get why you have to be so secretive all the time. You never tell me anything. I’ve- I’ve been trying so hard, but you never open up to me. It’s always, ‘None of your business, Anatole’, and I can’t take it anymore.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I’m not the only one hiding things! And I’m sorry I don’t want to tell you who I like. I’m sorry I’ve had an unrequited crush on someone for 8 fucking years, and I’ve been trying to forget, but nobody will let me. See you in chem.” I walk quickly away, leaving him standing there, dumbfounded, as tears continue to fall from his eyes behind the glasses. I bite my lip, feeling guilty, but I keep walking.

 

I avoid him for the rest of the day, which is no problem because he seems to be avoiding me as well. When I sit down at my usual lunch table, next to Denisov, he looks at me weirdly.

“I heard you spent the night with Kuragin.”

I give a little nod. “I guess so.”

“I also heard that you made him cry at the front gate.”

My eyes widen. “Who told you that?”

“It’s going around school. Everyone is talking. Are you avoiding him again?”

“Mm. Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You should have learned by now that is never going to solve anything. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen how hard he’s been working to be your friend.”

“Yeah, so I’ll get crushed with humiliation when he figures out about my thing for him and drops me, if he hasn’t already.”

“Already figured out, or already dropped you?” 

“Both.”

“You’re so blind.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I haven’t seen Andrey or Mary today. I wonder what they're doing.”

“Vaska, you’re changing the subject.”

“Oh my god, Fedya. You’re the one who said you didn’t want to talk about it. I’m humoring you. I’d love to know everything that happened, but I’m not asking.”

“Well, I saw Mary earlier. She went home because she was sick. No idea about Andrey though. He’s weird.”

“He is. Even more so since Natasha dumped him. Helene dumped Pierre too. Just two days ago. Pierre and Andrey have been hanging out. I hear Pierre has a thing for him too. I wonder how that’s working out. Maybe they’re having comfort sex.”

I snicker. “They’re childhood friends though. That would be weird.”

“We already established that Andrey  _ is _ weird. Besides, it was a joke.”

“What are you saying about me?” says a voice from behind us. Andrey Nikolayevich Bolkonsky. Speak of the devil.

“We were wondering if you and Pierre were having comfort sex,” I say with a smirk.

He blushes. Like, actually blushes. His face is bright red. I can see him struggling to try to keep a straight face. “Of course not. That’s… stupid. You’re disgusting.”

“Suit yourself,” I mutter.

“You're just salty because Anatole Kuragin finally ditched you.”

“I ditched him first, bastard. Now fuck off.”

“Andrey,” Mary tries to explain. “Dolokhov isn't trying to be mean-”

“Yes, he is,” Andrey says with absolute certainty. “But I don't care.” Andrey walks away, to find Pierre, no doubt.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my finals are over now. Yay! Sadly, I won't have wifi for a couple weeks so the next update might be a little later than usual. (I know i'm already terrible at updating this thing I'M SORRY) Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy the chapter

Life just isn't the same without Anatole. Work is boring. Anatole never comes anymore. Makarin never asks. But he knows, I can tell. I talk to Nikolay a lot in biology, in a futile attempt to try to distract myself from Anatole. 

Nothing works to distract me. I often spend the nights crying myself to sleep. I just want to be with him. Maybe I should just go to him and apologize, but no. I'm Fedya Dolokhov. I won't stoop that low. Ever. 

This lasts for about 2 months before he finally approaches me after school one day. 

“Fedya, I've been meaning to talk to you.”

“And?” I ask, crossing my arms. 

“It's taken me these past two months to actually work up the courage to approach you.”

“Oh? That doesn't sound like you.”

He laughs a little. “I guess not. See, Fedya… I read the letter.”

“What?” I ask, not realizing what he's talking about at first.

“You know, the one you threw in the trash. I took it it out and read it, after you'd left. I totally understand if you don't want to talk about it, but I don't know if I could stand having you hate me for the rest of my life.” He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look at me. “I'm sorry if you felt intimidated by what was written, but I promise that I would never plan to debauch or take advantage of our friendship.”

“I feel stupid right now because I'm not exactly sure what ‘debauch’ means.”

He smiles angelically. “You don't need to.” He pauses, his smile fading. “But do you forgive me?”

“You didn't do anything wrong. Why are you asking for forgiveness?”

His smile returns and he throws his arms around me. “I missed you, Fedya.”

“I missed you too,” I say back. His face is so close, and I want to kiss him so badly, but I don't. I gently pull back. 

“Dolokhov!” A female voice shouts. “Fyodor Ivanovich Dolokhov!” 

I turn. “Natasha. What's up?”

She sees me with Anatole and looks a bit taken aback. “Nevermind. I'll tell you later.” 

Anatole shakes his head and takes a step back. “I was just, leaving, Natalie.”

“But Anato-”

“Don't think anything of it. See you both tomorrow.” He smiles. 

“See you tomorrow,” I echo. 

Natasha watches him leave before speaking to me. “I'm glad you two finally made up.”

“Hmm.” 

“I'm not going to ask what you had your disagreement about, but he was really worried that you would never talk to him again.”

“That doesn't sound like him.”

“I know. That's because you're special, Dolokhov. He needs you more than you know. He needs you more than  _ he _ knows. Helene won't always be around to save him from himself. You need to be there for him.”

“But…”

“If you're scared of being around him, he has no idea about you. Trust me.”

“How do you know?”

“I can't tell you, but I have my ways.”

“Huh.”

“Also, I'm thinking of coming out. I've been talking to Sonya, Anna, Anatole, Pierre, and Andrey, and they're all been super encouraging.”

“That's great. I think you should. You're not alone.”

“I know. But I need a bit more encouragement, so I thought I ask you: make a deal with me.”

“What? That's sudden. What?”

“I confess, you confess.”

“You mean I have to confess to Anatole?”

“Yeah.”

“No. No way.”

“Come on. I promise I would never do anything if I thought it would hurt you. I believe that Anatole will take it well.”

“So who would you confess to?”

“Helene.”

“Helene, huh? So we both like Kuragins.”

She blushes. “I guess.” A pause. “So, will you do it?”

“Fine. When?”

Natasha taps her chin. “Within the week.”

 

So, the next day, after chemistry, Anatole talks to me as we leave the Marya Dimiryevna’s classroom. “Hey, Fedya?”

“Yeah?” I say. “What?”

“What did you talk about with Natalie yesterday?”

“She was just still conflicted about coming out. I didn't realize she likes Helene.”

Anatole nods. 

“And she said she would-”

Anatole’s eyes light up. “Really? That's good!”

I take a deep breath, deciding to get this over with. “Hey. I don't need you to answer, I'd prefer if you just forget about this after.”

Anatole cocks his head. “Fedya, what are you talking about.”

“She told me she'd confess on a condition,” I say as we walk out of the classroom. There’s nobody around. Everyone is in the cafeteria.

“What was that?”

“I have to tell you that I… I love you, Anatole.” I want to run and hide. I want the ground to swallow me up. I want to die. Instead, I look into his wide eyes. 

“What?” Anatole says after a long silence. “Fedya, I don't understand.”

“I thought you already knew.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Anatole says quietly.

“I’ve been hopelessly in love with you since fucking second grade! How could you not have noticed?”

“You should have told me earlier.”

“Why? So you wouldn't have had to spend all your time with a gross faggot?” I say bitterly. 

Anatole’s mouth falls open slightly. “Fedya, no! That's not it at all! I actually-”

“I told you I don't need an answer. It's better this way. Now I'm not keeping secrets from you.”

“Fedya, slow down! I-”

“No! I’m sorry, okay? I never wanted to like you. I’ve always known that I’ve never had a chance, but I can’t help it. I’m doing this because I want Natasha to be happy, because I know I never will.”

“Fedya, that’s not true.”

“It is, and you know it!” I turn and run away, tears streaming from my eyes. I sit behind the building and let myself cry. Maybe I’m not so fierce after all.

A minute barely passes before I hear a voice beside me. “Fedya?”

“Anatole, go away.”

“Fedya, we can talk about this. Just listen to me.”

“No!” I say, standing up and shoving him into the wall. “I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”

“Fedya, no! Please wait!”

“Bye, Anatole," I say coldly as I walk away.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi im back. And with the last chapter! Yay! I know this is cheesy as fuck and very rushed and very short, but it was kinda fun to write soooo anyway enjoyyy

I avoid Anatole for the next few days despite his common attempts to talk to me. It doesn’t take long for Denisov to notice this, and he approaches me about it after school.

“Hey, Fedya? What’s been up with you and Anatole lately? It seems like you’ve been avoiding him.”

“Yeah,” I say, not caring to elaborate.

“And just when I thought you two were getting somewhere with that relationship. Do I want to know?”

“I told him.”

“You did? Well… what did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. I just turned and left, and I’m never going to talk to him again.”

“How will you manage that? You go to the same school, Fedya, he knows where you work, he knows where you live. If he wants to talk to you, he damn well can.”

“Whatever. Shut up, Vaska. I’m going home.”

 

I don’t get very far before Anatole catches me.

“Fedya,” he whines. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the entire week. You can’t just ignore me!”

“Yeah, I can. Look, I’m sorry. You were a good friend, Anatole, but it’s too awkward with you knowing now, about… everything-”

“Fedya, I love you too,” Anatole blurts.

I blink. “What?”

“I love you,” Anatole says, softer. He gives a small, nervous smile.

I bite my lip. “You don’t have to say that just because you know it’s what I want to hear.”

“I’m not, Fedya, I swear. I have since before you fought with Pierre. I’m not sure exactly when I think it was kind of gradual. So when you pushed me away, I thought you hated me, and I cried that night. Hippolyte was really pissed at me when he found out…”

I don’t know why, but I start crying.

Anatole’s eyes widen. “Fedya, are you okay?”

I shake my head. “This is… too much for me right now.”

He takes a step closer to me and tilts my chin up to look into his eyes.

I slowly move my face toward his, and he closes the gap, gently pressing his lips to mine. It feels like the world explodes. I can’t think of anything other than Anatole.  _ Anatole.  _ It’s hard to comprehend. I’m kissing Anatole. Anatole is kissing me.

He pulls away gently. “Fedya,” he breathes against my lips.

“Anatole,” I say back.

He steps away and smiles. “I suppose it’s time for Natasha to keep her word.”

“So, what happened at school today?” Mrs. Drubetskoy asks.

“Oh!” Anna says excitedly. “Something interesting happened today.”

“You say that every day,” Lisa whines.

Anna ignores her. “So, Andrey and Natasha had been dating for a while right? Until a little while ago, they broke up. Natasha got with Anatole Kuragin, but today, you’ll never believe this. First, Anatole and Natasha broke up. Second, Pierre asked Andrey out, and he said yes.”

“What?” I ask incredulously. “Pierre and Andrey? I mean, it was obvious they like each other, but I never thought Pierre would confess. But, honestly, why anyone would want to date Andrey, I’ll never know.”

“Andrey is nice, just not to you,” Anna says. “Anyway, third, Natasha asked Helene out, and she said yes. And, fourth…” she pauses and looks sideways at me. “I saw Dolokhov kissing Anatole outside Marya Dmitryevna’s classroom.”

Mrs. Drubetskoy looks at me. “Fedya, is that true?”

I suddenly get scared. What if she’s homophobic or something? What if she kicks me out? “No,” I say, trying to sound genuine. I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

Anna sighs. “Come  _ on _ , Dolokhov. You’ve been pining after Anatole for years.”

“I have  _ not _ ! He’s just a friend!”

“Seriously though, what’s with everyone coming out as gay? Is this the new trend?”

“It’s not a  _ trend _ , Anna. Is being straight a trend?”

“Actually, I would say so. It’s society’s expectation that a man should be with a woman, so they can reproduce.”

“That is beside the point.”

“So you admit that you love Anatole?”

I roll my eyes in annoyance. “Fine, yeah, I love Anatole. Happy?”

“Yes. At least you’re being honest now.”

“Both of you, stop fighting,” Mrs. Drubetskoy says.

 

The next day, when I see Anatole, he runs up and pecks my cheek. “Hi, Fedya.”

“Anatole?” I ask, without even properly greeting him. “What… What are we?”

Anatole shrugs, a smile gracing his perfect features. “What do you want us to be, Fedya?”

“I want…” I start slowly. “I want you to be my boyfriend?”

He crashes his mouth against mine. “Me too,” he mumbles against my lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally done? It's not even very long, but this whole fic just took forever to write and its the first thing i ever actually completed so im maturing (lmao). because this is the first real fic i've written, comments and feedback are very much appreciated, so please leave some.  
> Love y'all  
> byyyeeeeeeeee


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